


Missing

by ShadowDarkFlower



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Memory Loss, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-03-15 12:47:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 24,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3447788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowDarkFlower/pseuds/ShadowDarkFlower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of the Musketeers goes missing, and it's up to the others to find him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I hope you enjoy this new story!

It was dark, that was the first thing that crossed the man's mind. The next was that the smell was horrible, and it was chilly wherever he was at. A groan rose from the man's lips as he rolled over onto his back, going to try and get a look around. His body had other ideas, cause when he moved a searing pain shot through his temples and all the way around his head. His whole body hurt. He could tell that he had some broken ribs, plus some bruised and cracked ones, a dislocated shoulder, his dominant one in fact...just his luck. He also had a sprained ankle and knee, both which felt like they were on fire and swollen to the size of a melon.

The man slowly opened his eyes, as the pain almost made it unbearable, but he pushed through, somehow knowing that if he didn't, he would never get out of here alive. Strange instinct, that. He didn't even know if he was somewhere dangerous, and yet here he was already making assumptions that he was in danger. Strange.

The man looked around slowly, eyes wandering to the different walls of what looked like a cell. Metal bars made up one wall, with what looked like the only opening. Unfortunately, it was chained shut from the outside, and a quick, if painful, look around the room showed no keys. Wonderful.

He slowly leveraged himself up, grimacing in pain the entire time. When he got himself up enough, he slid backwards a little to prop himself against a wall, knowing that he couldn't support himself. Another thought that was strange. It didn't help that he could almost hear a voice yelling at someone, yelling to take better care of themselves. Who was it and who were they yelling at?

The man shifted his head the side slightly, looking for any source of light. He didn't like the dark, and he didn't know why he didn't like the dark. God, what was wrong with him?

After finding no light, the man slowly and painstakingly pushed himself into a crouched position, groaning at the pain all across his body. After a moment to catch his breath, he pushed himself into a standing position, wincing when he put too much pressure on the injured knee and ankle.

After another moment, the man hobbled around the cell, looking for a way out, or anything to tell him where he was. He didn't remember arriving here, and he certainly didn't remember giving permission to be brought here. Actually, now that he thought about it, he didn't really remember anything at all. All he had to go on were instincts and feelings.

Who was he?

 

A group of three Musketeers wandered around the woods outside of Paris, calling out the name of their friend. It had been three whole days since he'd gone missing, after delivering a message to a city on the outskirts of France. It had been a simple mission, but one he'd never returned from. The men had gone and seen the person their friend delivered it to, only to find that he'd been there and left within record time. So where was he?

The three weren't the only ones searching for the missing Musketeer. Almost the whole regiment was searching, having split up to cover more ground, hoping to find a clue as to the whereabouts of their missing brother. But, as of the last communication, nobody had found anything. The three tried not to let that discourage them, but alas, it did. Nobody just disappeared into thin air. Yet, that is what seemed to have happened. They couldn't track the footprints, as the rain the other day washed all of them away. They couldn't trace the path that their friend had taken; they'd already done that and found nothing. Not even a broken tree limb off course. They'd found absolutely nothing.

The men continued to call for their friend, hoping with all they had that they might get a response this time, or maybe the next. But they all knew that it wasn't going to happen. If it was it would've happened by now. Now, they continued to call, just so they would have something to do. They had to find something, anything. They just had to. The alternative was unthinkable.

The men continued to ride until almost dark. They wanted to continue but knew that once dark fell, it would be safer for everyone if they stopped. They didn't need another one of them injured, as they knew that their missing comrade must be. That was the only explanation as to why he hadn't returned, other than being kidnapped, which was just as unthinkable. There were no other logical options. Or at least ones they would consider. They refused to think that he might be dead until his body was found. Only then would they believe it. Until then, there was still hope, minor though it may be.

The men slowly made their way towards the city, still looking for clues along the way. They'd take as much time as they could, and they knew that Captain Treville wouldn't say anything. Not now, at least.

The horses plodded along as slow and dreary as their masters. It was like even they felt the loss of their missing one. The path they were on lead straight to the city, so the men didn't have to worry about getting lost. They could just aimlessly let the horses take them home while their thoughts stayed on their missing companion and what might have happened to him.

They finally made it to the outskirts of the forest, the last rays of sun touching them with its glow as it descended across the sky. Paris was almost like a beacon, one they didn't want if it meant they returned empty handed, nothing to show for their search.

The men continued along until they reached the gates of the city. They pulled to a stop, almost unwilling to return to the safety and comfort of the garrison, their home. Finally, one of the men gave his horse a nudge and went through, another one behind him. The final one just stayed for a moment, sending a prayer to a God he had stopped believing in a long time ago, for the safe return of their brother. Once finished he turned one last time to look behind him at the trees they'd left behind.

"d'Artagnan, boy, where are you?" His voice quietly echoed in the air, wind sweeping it away, before turning and heading through the gates.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy this guys!

Time passed slowly for the man, the days only being marked by the meals he was given morning and evening. He spent the time in silence and a strange solitude, even though he couldn't remember ever being with someone. Images of strange, but also familiar, men and a beautiful woman sometimes darted through his memory but were gone before he could really see them.

The man leveraged himself up with the wall, his wounds still aching as he hadn't been given anything to repair himself with. He was pretty sure a wound had been infected, though he wasn't sure where. He'd spent the last day or so shaking with fever and unable to hold his stomach contents. Needless to say, if he didn't get help soon, he'd probably die.

The man took a couple of steps before collapsing, legs giving out underneath him. He hit the stone ground hard. Searing pain traveled everywhere in his body. He turned on his side just in time to spew his stomach contents on the floor. He slid over some, his hair dragging through his sickness. God, he felt horrible.

A set of footsteps sounded outside his cell, heels clicking across the hard ground. The man could hear the gentle swish of a cloak as it brushed against the walls of the prison. The man pulled himself into a sitting position against the wall, using the last of his strength. The footsteps kept sounding closer until finally, a strange man reached his cell door. This wasn't the guy who brought him his meals. The door was pulled open and the strange man slipped inside, chuckling when he saw the state of his prisoner, pulling the door closed behind him.

The man watched the new guy warily. Somehow, he knew he didn't want to be in this guys clutches. And for once, he wasn't questioning his instincts. He slid across the floor and wall, almost desperate to get away from the other man.

The new guy just kept chuckling as his prisoner tried to get away from him. How fun this was! Having one of the so-called righteous, honorable Musketeers in his grasp was too enjoyable to resist. Especially this one, as he was one of the ones who'd caused him so much trouble. Now, he would get his revenge.

"Ah, one of the infamous Musketeers, looking no different than the rats of the city. Aren't you showing your true colors?" The man shifted backwards again, away from the evil voice echoing around the room. What was a Musketeer? And why did this guy hate them so much?

"No defense for your kind? I'm shocked. Normally, you've got a snappy response to everything. Come now, d'Artagnan, don't you want to try and best me? Don't you want to defend your "brothers"?" He eyed the man curiously. This guy knew him? He knew his name?

"You know me?"The man quietly asked, desperate for an answer. This guy knew him. And he said that he has brothers! There was somebody looking for him.

The new guy jerked when he heard the quietly asked question. What the hell? What was going on? He went over and grabbed the prone man, dragging him up by his hair. The man cried out in pain at the cruel treatment.

"What the hell do you mean, asking if I know who you are?" The man sniffled, twisting slightly to try and break the other guys hold on his hair to no avail, as he was too weak.

"I don't remember anything! I don't know who you are, I don't know who I am, I don't know anything!" The man was released, causing him to drop to the floor, legs unable to catch him. The other guy stalked away, fuming, pacing back and forth.

"So, you don't remember anything? Not men named Athos, Porthos and Aramis?" The man hesitated slightly, before shaking his head no in answer. The names sounded familiar and safe, but he didn't remember them.

"Unbelievable! How is this gonna work then? How am I supposed to use you to get back at the other Musketeers?" The new guy yelled, while continuing his pacing. He continued his walking back and forth and mumbling to himself for another few minutes, the man watching him cautiously all the while. The new guy paused, looking back over at the man, a leer making its way across his face.

"Yes. I can still use you. It's genius!" The new guy turned and left the cell, locking it behind him. He made his way towards the hall leading away from the cell, before pausing.

"I'll be back. I have some arrangements to make...brother." He turned and left, his footsteps loudly echoing down the hall.

The man watched the other guy leave in shock. What? Arrangements? Would he finally get to leave?

He looked down the silent hallway some more, thinking about all that was said. When he remembered the end of the words, he gasped.

Brother...he called me brother.

 

Athos walked down the stairs from Treville's office, anger and sadness weighing down on him. It had been over a week since d'Artagnan had gone missing and Treville had just taken the search party off rotation. He'd just declared the young man dead, until they actually found sufficient evidence to suggest otherwise. But they couldn't spend all their time looking anymore. Now, they could only use their free time after they'd finished whatever task they were given for the day.

His shoulders slumped in barely hidden despair. How was he supposed to tell the others? How were they supposed to just stop? Their brother was missing.

He reached the end of the stairs, looking around for the other two. When he located them at their normal table, he took a deep breath before heading slowly towards them.

Aramis and Porthos looked up when they heard their friend coming towards them. Their hearts almost stopped in their chest when they saw the expression on his face. They stood, ready to start begging for answers, but he just waved at them to stay seated. Once he was settled across from them, he poured himself a glass of wine from a bottle sitting on a nearby table, downing it with one swallow. Aramis and Porthos didn't say anything, just waited for him to tell them the news. When Athos finished his second glass, he finally worked up the nerve to tell them the bad news.

"d'Artagnan has been declared deceased until further evidence is found. We are to return to duty in the morning."

Aramis and Porthos drew in surprised breaths.

"What! We can't just not look for him, Athos. He's out there, probably injured, and needing our help!" Porthos all but bellowed, sweeping the dishes off of a nearby table in anger. All the other Musketeers in the vicinity stopped to watch the breakdown of the inseparables. They knew how close the men were and knew that they would be affected badly by the disappearance of their youngest.

"Porthos, please, calm yourself. We're all angry, you know that. But destroying everything isn't helping anyone, especially d'Artagnan. Please, stop." Aramis quietly tried to calm his friend, all the while his own temper rising. They couldn't give up on the young man who'd never given up on them, even when they'd hurt him with their actions.

"I don't want to give up on him either. But we have our orders, and we have to follow them, no matter how much it hurts to do so." Athos stated, before drinking another glass of wine. Right now, he planned on finishing this bottle before they headed out to go search one more time.

They all just hoped they weren't too late when they finally found something.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks for the wonderful reviews! Hope you enjoy this one!

1 Month Later:

d'Artagnan thrust his sword at his opponent before spinning and blocking the attack that came from behind. It had been a month since his brother released him from the jail cell he'd been kept in and part of him couldn't be happier. There was still the part of him who remembered everything his brother had said and done that didn't trust him. But that part was slowly fading into the background, as he got to know his brother, and hear the stories told about him and the things he didn't remember.

d'Artagnan parried another attack before using a swift move to take the sword away from his opponent. He held both swords to the man's throat until he gave a move of surrender. Applause sounded from behind him as he stepped away from the defeated man, turning to see who was there. A smile spread across his face when he caught sight of his brother.

"Well done, little brother. You're getting better everyday!" Rochefort said, an unnoticed gleam in his eye. It hadn't been hard to convince the young man in front of him that they were family and get him to trust him. And now he was almost ready for the confrontation with his former brothers and friends. What a joyous sight it will be to see the utter defeat on the Musketeers' faces when they realize one of their own is now on his side. He walked over to the younger man, slinging an arm around his shoulders to pull him into a walk.

d'Artagnan flushed slightly at the praise, cheeks turning a reddish hue on his darker skin. It made him happy to see how pleased his brother was with him. It was like sword fighting came naturally to him, even though he couldn't remember learning it. Unless those images he keeps dreaming of are real.

The two men walked towards the house across the field they were sparring in, talking all along the way. Rochefort found it easier to make the former Musketeer believe him if he kept talking about them and how they were raised. Of course it was all make believe, which is why he kept little things around the house to remind himself of the story, as well as to show the Gascon proof. God, he was gullible.

"So, I see you're improving very nicely. Do you have any idea what you might want to do with this newly found ability?" Rochefort casually asked d'Artagnan, not slowing his walking.

d'Artagnan thought for a few moments in silence, not sure how to answer. Sure, he'd thought about joining the Red Guard like his brother-apparently it was a family tradition or something to join some sort of military or regiment-but he wasn't sure. Sure he was good with a sword, but he was also good with horses and fields and such, even though Rochefort said that wasn't his place.

Rochefort waited impatiently for the younger man to answer but was able to rear it in before it became noticeable to him. He would like it if he chose to do it himself, but would force him if need be. He was so close to the destruction of the Inseparables, as they were the ones who caused him the most problems. It would be so good to see them crumble.

d'Artagnan was silent for a few more minutes, still not sure what to do. He finally turned slightly to his brother, wondering if he could help him decide.

"What do you think, brother? Part of me wants to become a soldier like you, but the other part wants to stay here and be safe. Is that wrong?" d'Artagnan quietly asks, head turned down in shame. He should be deciding this himself, not acting like a child who runs to someone for help.

Rochefort barely concealed the broad grin that wanted to show at this. The plan was going perfectly. Now, he just needed to come up with the right thing to say. After a moment of thinking he finally decided.

"No, it's not wrong, little brother. Everyone has a part of them that wants to stay safe and alive. It's nothing to be ashamed of. How about this, I enroll you with the Red Guards for a trial run, just to see if you like it. And if not, you can come back home. What do ya say?" d'Artagnan thought for a moment before grinning with a nod in response.

"Let's do this. I promise to make you proud, brother." d'Artagnan stated vehemently. Rochefort just chuckled, tightening his arm around the younger man.

"You already have, Charles. You already have." Rochefort stated sincerely. Unfortunately, d'Artagnan didn't see the dark look that crossed his face, and continued on to the house for supper.

 

The Inseparables stopped their horses before dismounting and heading into a tavern. In the month since they'd seen their younger brother, things had changed. The garrison seemed almost desolate without the vivacious presence of the missing young man. A somber mood had descended on everyone, especially on the day of the memorial. d'Artagnan had been declared missing and deceased, and with that brought the funeral. Of course there was no body to bury, but that didn't stop them from respecting the life of their friend. That night every Musketeer had a drink in honor of him, and the Inseparables were grateful. They knew that not everyone was fond of the young man, but they were grateful that they all at least respected him.

The trio walked into the tavern, hoping to get a drink and sit in silence. They didn't feel like talking or laughing, almost like they were dishonoring their friends memory. They knew he would want them to continue on like normal, move on and not let this keep them down, but they couldn't seem to. d'Artagnan had unwittingly wormed his way into their jaded hearts, breaking down their walls with his laughter and humor, caring and support. Love. That's what it was. They loved him, because he was family. They just hoped he knew that.

The trio headed to the back room of the tavern, only for it to be crowded with Red Guards who were apparently celebrating something, if the cheering going on was any clue. The trio turned to walk away, only to be confronted by more of them coming up behind them. They walked around them, intent on not starting anything as they didn't want to deal with a fight. As they were walking past, they overheard part of a conversation about a new member to their "team". They cringed at the thought of someone being gullible enough to believe the lies of the Red Guard.

The trio found a seat in the corner, ordering a couple of bottles of wine from a passing barmaid. Once settled they turned their gazes elsewhere, as they could barely look each other in the eye, each blaming themselves for the death of their brother. Silence reigned, even Aramis' flirtatious charms and silver tongue were unusually dimmed in sorrow.

They were more than half way through their drinks when a crash sounded from the center of the room. When they looked, all they could see were a swarm of red cloaks. When the crowd dissipated a little they were able to make out the form of the Red Guards captain, Rochefort. The trio tried to avoid looking in their direction, hoping that they would go unnoticed. Unfortunately, fate had another thing in mind as Rochefort spotted them. He headed their way, with another guard trailing behind him. Once he made it to their table, a leer spread across his face.

"So, I heard about the death of your young friend. I guess you just couldn't protect him like you promised." Rochefort sneered at them, more drunk than he'd admit to. He had been going to wait for morning to introduce the new member to the Musketeers, but he figured now would be perfect considering they were at a low point.

Porthos jolted to his feet, hand around Rochefort's throat, knocking his chair to the ground. Aramis and Athos went to grab him, not wanting to start any trouble. After a moment, Porthos released the man, having decided Aramis' whispered murmurings were right.

Once stable again, Rochefort straightened his coat, a smirk spreading across his features. The trio watched him warily in response.

"Shall I introduce you to our newest member? Musketeers, I'd like you to meet my brother." Rochefort waved the man behind him forward. Once he was next to him and no longer obscured by Rochefort's body, the trio turned their gaze to him. Aramis drew in a sharp breath while Porthos eyes widened and his skin paled considerably. Athos just watched with shock, not caring once if it showed on his face.

"d'Artagnan..." Athos breathed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I know it's been a little while, life just got busy. Hope you enjoy!

"d'Artagnan..." Athos breathed.

The trio all held their breaths in shock at the sight of their youngest. They'd thought him dead and now, to see him alive and well, was a surprise. Even more so was the fact that he was with Rochefort and the Red Guard, willingly.

D'Artagnan watched the three men in front of him with something akin to confusion. These were the men from his dreams, the ones who were always taking care of him. He'd thought they were figments of his imagination, ones that his mind made up to make him feel safe. And now, here they were sitting in front of him. He didn't know what to do.

Rochefort smirked at the looks on the Inseparables' faces. He'd enjoyed seeing the desolate looks that had been on their faces when they'd thought their young brother dead, but he was gonna enjoy this even more. To have them know that he was alive, but they couldn't touch him...priceless.

Aramis leaned into Porthos, shock making him wobbly in his seat. d'Artagnan was here, and he was alive! That was most joyous. But the look he was wearing suggested that he was confused about who they were. What was going on?

Porthos leaned back into Aramis at the same time he was leaning into him, holding each other up. His little brother is here, alive. How was that possible? Granted they'd never found his body, and never found evidence of his death, but still. He would've shown up. At least he'd thought so. Now though, he wasn't sure. Here he was with their enemy, the one who'd caused them so much grief in the past months, looking for all the world like he was comfortable with him and looking at them like they were strangers. What was going on?

Athos took a moment to school his expression into a blank mask before speaking. While he was shocked and hurt that the Gascon had let them believe he was dead, there had to be a good explanation. Didn't there? He wouldn't just up and leave the Musketeers, up and leave them, without a good reason. Was Rochefort threatening him? If so, what did he have over the young man? Athos minutely shook his head, trying to clear it of the depressing thoughts. Right now d'Artagnan was alive and well, and that was all that mattered.

d'Artagnan turned to his brother, catching the smirk before it disappeared. What was his brother thinking? d'Artagnan turned back to the three men, wondering what they were thinking. Their expressions suggested joy, and also hurt and bewilderment. Why was that?

"I know you." d'Artagnan said quietly, hoping to get some clue as to why from the three. He must've met them at some point before losing his memories. That was the only explanation.

The trio jerked, looking sharply up at their young friend. What? Of course he knew them, they were his family. He'd been working with them for over a year now. What the hell?

Aramis studied the young man in front of them carefully. First he'd looked confused, and now he's saying he knows them like he's not sure how. Aramis watched him for another moment before it clicked. He didn't remember. That was the only thing that made sense. He didn't remember them.

Rochefort looked at the former Musketeer beside him, startled. He'd never said he remembered anything, that he knew anything about his former life. Was he questioning the whole ruse? Did he know about Rochefort's deceit? The Red Guard internally berated himself. Of course he didn't, he would've said something. But he would have to keep a closer eye on the Gascon in the future.

"You are our brother, d'Artagnan, and a Musketeer. You've been missing for a little over a month now, and we have been searching desperately for you." Porthos replied, a part of him hoping that his words would jog the young man's memory, having figured out the same thing as Aramis. He watched his little brother closely, looking for any sign of recognition.

"That's impossible. My brother is Captain of the Red Guard, and you're Musketeers. You can't be my brothers." d'Artagnan said, even though he was starting to question everything he'd been told, and the trio could tell that with his tone. Why would he feel safe with these men when he didn't feel even remotely close to that with his brother? This was all so confusing.

Athos watched the fury that was climbing on Rochefort's face, even if the newly found Gascon didn't. What was his end game? Why was he doing all this? What could he possibly gain, besides more of their hatred? They were already at odds with each other before, this would make them even more so. He turned his gaze back to the young man in front of him, standing from his chair, surprising the two still seated.

d'Artagnan watched warily as the older of the Musketeers stood, taking a step in his direction. He slid back an inch, wanting to move away, but feeling as if he should stay. It was like two sides of him were warring against each other, confusing him greatly. What was he supposed to do? These men were practically enemies of his brother and the people he just signed up with. And yet, when he looked at them, he didn't see enemies; he saw family and love and people who would always be there for him. He could almost see himself with them, sparring or riding horses. What was he supposed to do?

Athos slid another step towards d'Artagnan, just now realizing that everyone in the tavern was watching them, including all the other Red Guards here. Should he keep pressing this now, or should they let d'Artagnan leave with Rochefort and find him later? Athos' heart said press this now, make d'Artagnan believe them, believe that they were his brothers and that they were here for him. But his brain was telling him to slow down, not make things harder than they already are. d'Artagnan didn't know them. He might get these strange feeling around them, but he didn't know them. They needed to earn his trust back, not force it and not confront him without learning more about the situation. But now that they knew he was alive, there was gonna be no stopping them.

Athos stopped moving forward and just stood there in front of the young man. Tomorrow, they would start to figure this out. Right now, he was gonna enjoy just seeing his baby brother again.

Rochefort cleared his throat, breaking the silence that had fallen over the tavern. He needed to get d'Artagnan out of here before he lost anymore of his control over him. He already had enough damage control to take care of.

"d'Artagnan, we need to leave. Now." Rochefort pulled the Gascon away from the table that the Musketeers were at towards the door on the opposite side of the building. They needed to get out of here.

Feeling himself being pulled d'Artagnan turned away from the trio. But once at the door he sent one last almost longing look in their direction, hoping it wouldn't get noticed by his brother before disappearing into the night.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Hope you enjoy!

Athos rolled over in his bed, unable to sleep due to thoughts of the encounter earlier that evening swirling around with no end in sight. His thoughts were bouncing around everywhere, but always coming back to this one;

Why did d'Artagnan not remember them?

Athos rolled over onto his opposite side, a frown growing on his face due to his troubling thoughts. There had to be a good explanation, and try as he might he kept coming back to only one – that d'Artagnan suffered from a head injury at some point since he went missing. And that led him to even more troubling thoughts. If he did suffer a head injury as suspected, then there could be more problems than they realized. It was fortunate that he has some recollection of them, that will make it easier to convince him to come back to them, but what if he never completely remembers them? All the trust, and dare he say it – love, will never be there. Sure they could earn it back, but it wouldn't be the same. They wouldn't have gone through the whole debacle of the young man believing that he was his father's murderer, they wouldn't have gone through the whole thing with Anne, or the whole thing with Vadim, which had really settled their companionship with the boy. None of it would be there.

Athos finally stood and grabbed a bottle of wine from underneath his bed. He'd had enough of those thoughts. Now, he was going to try to drink his way into oblivion, knowing that it wouldn't completely work.

 

d'Artagnan stood watching with an empty gaze as the sun rose, looking through the window that overlooked the gardens. It had been a long night of sleeplessness and scrambled thoughts that he'd been unable to shut out, disjointed thoughts and images painting an unfamiliar picture in his head.

Ever since the confrontation at the tavern earlier that evening- make that yesterday now- it was like there was a crack in the wall that was holding back his memories. Flashes of images that didn't make sense; him laughing with the three Musketeers, riding through a set of woods and a meadow after a man, knowing that his friends were waiting for him to return. Then there was another time, when he became a confidant to the older Musketeer as he dealt with grief. What did all this mean?

d'Artagnan shook himself out of his reverie. Now wasn't the time to deal with any of this. Not until he had more information. And he was getting it, one way or another. No matter what his brother said.

 

Rochefort watched with a careful eye as d'Artagnan thrust his sword at his sparring partner, looking for any sign that the younger man disbelieved him. Ever since the meeting at the tavern yesterday with the Inseparables and finding out that the Gascon had a few of his memories back he'd been going through his memories from the last few weeks, looking for any sign of the return of d'Artagnan's memories. He'd found none and was even more surprised that the young man had been able to hide it as well as he had.

Rochefort walked toward the duo in front of him, knowing that he'd have to leave soon if he was to make it to his appointment with the King. It was best to stay on the man's good side for now, no matter how childish he may be. If his long term plan was to work, it required the King to trust him more than Treville.

d'Artagnan jerked when he felt a hand land on his shoulder, startled out of his "duel". He turned only to find his brother behind him. When Rochefort gestured him to step away he followed, wondering if this was about last night. He wasn't gonna tell him he remembered more, not until he found out for sure what was going on. He couldn't trust anyone now.

"I have to leave now if I'm gonna make it to my meeting with the King on time. I trust you will stay out of trouble?" d'Artagnan almost rolled his eyes at the other man, before deciding against it. No use pushing his buttons anymore that he had to know about.

"Of course, brother. The most I'll be doing today is maybe take a ride though the forest f it doesn't rain, like it looks like it might." d'Artagnan replied, looking up pointedly towards the gray and dreary sky in emphasis. Rochefort chuckled before wrapping his arm around the young man, leading him towards the house where his horse was tied.

"Of course you will, d'Artagnan. Horses are your specialty, of course." With that Rochefort mounted his black steed. Before leaving he looked down towards the Gascon and asked.

"You will tell me if you remember anything new, won't you?" d'Artagnan almost shifted in discomfort before catching himself, and nodded. Rochefort seemed pleased with that answer and rode off.

Once his brother had disappeared from view, d'artagnan ran inside and up to his room, grabbing his cloak and hat before rushing out to the barn. Now was the perfect time to ride to the Musketeer garrison and demand answers to some of his questions.

d'Artagnan saddled his horse and mounted, heading out the back way so as to go unseen. No use in giving his brother something to worry and question him about.

It was time to finally find out what was going on.

 

The Inseparables sat at their usual table, watching the others spar with unseeing eyes. Thoughts of their younger brother consumed them as they remembered him the way he was yesterday. He'd looked so confused and frightened when he realized that his subconscious remembered them, showing it to him in dreams. What had happened to him? What made him go with Rochefort of all people? Did Rochefort threaten him? No, it didn't seem that way. Besides, with what? It's not like Gascon remembered anything.

The trio was brought out of their musing at shouts from the others. The men bolted to their feet heading to see what all the commotion was about. A man was on his horse with his back to them, seemingly questioning the Musketeers surrounding him. When one of them pointed in their direction, the man turned revealing the face of d'Artagnan.

Choosing to ignore the expressions on the other men's faces, the trio just watched as d'Artagnan dismounted, before almost storming over to them. When he was only a few feet away he drew his sword, pointing it at them.

"I demand answers as to how you know me and why I remember you three. If you don't, I shall drop you where you stand."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for hanging in there, I know my updates are kinda erratic right now. Hope you enjoy!

d'Artagnan held his sword up, no matter how hard it was with his arm trembling like a fragile limb on a tree with the wind blowing. He didn't understand. It was like his body was betraying his mind, like it was fighting every signal he'd been giving it. Why? What was so special about these men, men he didn't even know?

The trio stood still and watched as the Gascon's mind warred with his body. Their first instinct was to run up to him, hold him until he managed to pull himself together, giving him the shelter and support he needed. But they ignored it. This young man, while looking like their younger brother, wasn't him in mind. This young man was someone they didn't know. This was someone they needed to learn about and maybe, just maybe, they'd be able to pull him back to them, pull him back into his own mind.

d'Artagnan shook his head, trying to dissuade the thoughts from going even farther, running away from him. He didn't need this right now. Right now, he needed answers. Now, if only his body would cooperate with him.

d'Artagnan turned his attention back towards the three in front of him, the trembling in his body becoming more pronounced and visible to those around him. He could feel the eyes of the other Musketeers on him but not coming closer, which surprised him. He was threatening their brothers, so why weren't they trying to stop him? He knew he wasn't a slacker when it came to sword fighting, but there were a dozen of them at least. They could easily take him down.

The trio could see the confusion in d'Artagnan's eyes and the trembling still coursing through him. The desire to reach out to comfort and help shuddered through them and they were barely able to restrain themselves. They knew the touch would be unwelcome. Right now, they were very grateful to their brothers for giving them the space they needed. While yes, there was an audience, no one needed to know everything that was going to be said.

d'Artagnan continued to hold his sword towards the men, waiting for an answer. The trembling in his legs increased and he almost stumbled. Tears pricked his eyes, which he tried to blink away inconspicuously. Why was this happening to him? Why couldn't his body just do what he told it to?

Aramis stepped forward to comfort the young man once he saw the tears attempting to fall. He couldn't let his younger brother suffer any longer, though he would never tell anyone that he needed the comfort just as much. He stepped around the shaking sword and gently wrapped his arms around the young man, drawing him close into his body. d'Artagnan's frame continued to shake in his arms, still holding the sword out towards the other two before he lost the battle and dropped it. The young man wrapped his arms around Aramis and sobbed into his shoulder. Aramis just soothingly stroked his hair, whispering quiet words in his ear.

Athos and Porthos watched the scene fold out before them with their own tears being held. They stepped forward when they heard d'Artagnan's broken voice.

"What's going on with me? Why is this happening?" Tears continued to pour down his cheeks. Aramis just held him and whispered.

"I don't know lad, but we'll figure it out. You'll see."

 

d'Artagnan huddled under a blanket, sitting on a bed beside Aramis, desperately trying to stop shaking. Once they had calmed him enough, the trio had led the Gascon to his room, giving themselves some privacy while hoping that being here would jog his memory. While the former was granted, the latter had yet to come true.

"You know, I came here to get answers. Now, I can't think straight enough to form a question." d'Artagnan's small, soft voice said, making Porthos want to wrap him in his arms. He was used to the young man being bold and rash and loud and so full of life. Now he sounded broken and it wasn't a good sound.

"Was there something in particular you were wanting to know? Maybe if we knew what that was, we could start with something small and work our way up." Athos answered from his place beside Porthos. As much as wished to be the one comforting the young man, he knew Aramis was be the best choice at the moment.

d'Artagnan thought for a moment. There were so many things he wanted to ask them, he didn't know where to start. After a moment he decided to go with a basic question.

"How do you know me? I know at the tavern you said something about us being brothers, but how can that be? Rochefort's my brother and he hates you, so that doesn't make any sense." Aramis looked towards the other two when d'Artagnan asked the question that was gonna be one of the hardest to answer without confusing the boy even more.

"We meant it when we said we were your brothers. We don't know why Rochefort's acting like he's one, and we don't know what happened to you that made you forget, but we'll do everything in our power to help you believe it." Athos said. He'd wanted to say more, but was afraid of saying too much and confusing the boy. d'Artagnan needed to be the one to ask the questions, at his own pace. No rush.

D'Artagnan looked between the three men around him, trying to read their expressions. But as he looked at them, all he saw was sincerity and a barely concealed pain. He knew it wasn't a physical one. It was an emotional one due to them caring about him. How he knew that without proof, he didn't know. But what he did know was that he didn't want these men to hurt any longer. And add that up with the way his brother had treated him while he was locked in that jail cell a month ago, gave him good incentive to listen to what they had to say.

"Alright, tell me everything."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy guys! I hope you enjoy this Chapter!

d'Artagnan sat back in the chair in shock, which was opposite the bed that held the three Musketeers he came to see. A part of him couldn't believe anything that they had said, while the other part of him, the part that feels safe with these people, knew it was true. All his memories, all the "care" he'd experienced with Rochefort, was a lie. None of it was true. None of it was real. And that hurt more than he'd ever admit to.

Athos and the others watched the hurt creep onto d'Artagnan's features. They knew this was a lot to take in, especially all at once, but they also knew it was for the best. If they didn't tell him everything now, he'd always wonder if they were also hiding things from him, lying to him. And they didn't want that. They wanted him to trust them, to believe them. Even if at the moment it was hurting him.

d'Artagnan sat shaking in his chair, barely holding back the tears that were building. He hurt more than he ever had. Everything he thought he knew, everything he loved and dreamed of, was a lie. What was he to do now? Everything he knew was gone, ruined for him. He couldn't go back home, and pretend that everything was okay, not with what he knew now.

Home. He didn't have one of those anymore. What was he supposed to do, live on the streets? He didn't have anywhere to go, anyone to go to. What was going to happen to him now? d'Artagnan sniffled slightly before speaking.

"What am I supposed to do now? I have nowhere to go, and no one to go to. I have nothing." The trio's hearts clenched at the complete and utter despair and devastation in the Gascon's voice. The broken note in which he said it made it all the worse for them. Their young friend was hurting, and there was nothing they could do about it. Aramis gripped Porthos' hand tightly in his own, looking for and showing support in their time of need. Porthos squeezed back just as tightly, whether for his own benefit or for Aramis' he didn't know.

Athos clenched his hands into fists to keep from reaching out to the young man in front of him in support and comfort. Why did all the horrible things keep happening to the lad? It was like fate had it out for him, trying to keep him from living a peaceful life. Well, as peaceful of one as you can manage while being a soldier for the King. But, ever since the young man showed up in their lives, everything has become much more interesting and dangerous. But they wouldn't give him up, not for anything. He was one of them now.

Athos leaned forward, propping his elbows up on his legs, hands hanging between his knees. He knew what he had to say, it was just painful to have to say it. It should be known by now. Now, that was all gone though.

"d'Artagnan, you have your own place, here at the garrison. In fact, this is your room. You can stay here, even if you don't remember anything yet. This place is yours and it will be until the day you leave the Musketeers which, by our standards, you haven't yet. You were coerced into joining the Red Guard, not of your own free will. Am I right?" Athos waited with bated breath for the young man's answer. Hopefully, they got through to him and he'd stay. If not, then he'd return to Rochefort none the worse for wear but with maybe a few seeds of doubt planted.

"Okay...I'll stay. But first I need to confront Rochefort. He's got some explaining to do." d'Artagnan got up from his chair and swiftly made his way out the door, heading down the stairs. It took a moment to register his words beyond the relief that he was sticking around, but when they did, all three of them bolted after him, hoping to get there in time to stop him. They reached him just as he was mounting his horse, and was about to leave the courtyard. Porthos snagged the horse's reins and pulled it to a stop while Aramis and Athos both reached for the Gascon. d'Artagnan frowned at them, jerking his arms from their grip.

"What are you doing? I need to speak with Rochefort now. Why are you getting in my way? Let go of my horse!" d'Artagnan spoke out loudly, bringing more attention to the four of them. Porthos gave a slight wave of his hand to the others in the courtyard, letting them know not to worry and that everything was alright. Athos pulled the young man off his horse, the Gascon struggling all the way.

"What are you doing?! Let me go, now. Unhand me!" The Gascon shouted out, attempting to pull himself free of Athos' grip. Aramis walked up to him and gently grabbed his face with both hands, bringing d'Artagnan's attention to himself.

"d'Artagnan, we know you want answers from him, so do we, but you can't just storm back there demanding them. He could hurt you or possibly even kill you. We don't know how he'll act once he finds out you know he's been lying to you. Please, calm down and don't do this."Aramis explained and pleaded. He didn't want his young friend, his brother, to go and do this just to end up getting hurt worse than he already was. Who's to say that if he suffered more trauma he wouldn't forget all of this, all that had happened in the past month or so? Who's to say, he wouldn't fall right back into Rochefort's clutches and there would be nothing any of them could do about it.

Athos and Porthos watched the exchange with a fast growing trepidation. d'Artagnan on his best day was a force to be reckoned with when it came to an argument over what he can and can't do. He got even better on his worst day, when he was feeling horrible and wanted to fight just to fight. But given the situation now, they couldn't exactly force him into doing anything. They couldn't even properly reason with him when he didn't completely trust them.

After a moment or two of silence during which a stare down between d'Artagnan and Aramis occurred, d'Artagnan finally conceded with a tight nod.

"Alright, we'll do it your way. For now." d'Artagnan jerked his arm out of their hold and stalked off. The trio watched him for a moment before breathing a collective sigh of relief. For now, they have him here to watch over and take care of. They just hoped it stayed that way.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy!

d'Artagnan tossed fitfully in the bed, turning to stare at the wall across the room. Sleep wasn't his companion tonight. After the trio of Musketeers convinced him to stay, he'd let himself be showed back to his room.

His room. He would never get used to that. But he'd admit, if only to himself, that this sparsely decorated room felt more like home than the furnished suite he'd had back at Rochefort's estate. It actually felt...right, here. It felt like coming home from a long journey. It felt...amazing. And a part of him that he didn't really want to acknowledge, told him that it was because of the three men down the walkway. Between everything he'd been told, and what little he remembered, he was close to them. As in like family close. And that worried him.

What if they decide that he's too much work? What if they don't care and are lying to him (not that he was given that impression, 'cause he wasn't)? What would happen to him then?

The Gascon stood from his bed, pulling on his breeches as quickly as he could. He needed a walk. He needed to clear his head. He was worrying over a future that might never come into fruition. He needed to worry about the now. He needed to figure out how he was going to ask his broth...Rochefort about all the lies he'd been telling. That's what he needed to do.

He made his way out the door, trying to be as silent as possible, given the stairs creaking underfoot. Once down he hurried to the gate, giving a quick, short nod to the two guards on duty. When he was a safe enough distance away from the garrison so no one would find it suspicious, he took off running down the street.

In his haste to run and get away for a little while, he didn't notice the figures following him silently in the shadows.

 

Rochefort sat in the chair in his room that was by the window, drinking a glass of wine. The anger he'd felt at returning home and finding d'Artagnan gone had yet to leave and, instead, built up into fury. How had he not seen that the lad was lying to him? He was a master in lying, and yet he was fooled by a kid who wore his heart on his sleeve. And now, his plan was ruined. He needed to find another way to ruin the Musketeers, especially the Inseparables, and fast.

While he might have the favor of the King and Queen at the moment, he knew that some people were getting very suspicious about him. Especially the Lady Constance. But he couldn't touch her, wouldn't touch her. It would bring Anne so much pain when her friend and confidant suddenly had an accident and died. And that just wouldn't do.

Rochefort continued looking out the window, seething as he tried to come up with a plan. After hours of this, in a fit of anger, he stood and threw his glass at the wall, shattering it into pieces. He panted through his rage, running a hand through his hair. He needed reinforcements. He needed help, as loathe as he was to admit it.

Time to pull out the big guns.

 

Athos looked across the old wooden table in the tavern towards his two friends. After escorting d'Artagnan to his room they'd decided it would be best if they went out for a little while. Unfortunately, being here brought on memories of all the fun the four of them had had together in the past. It was hard to forget all the laughter and grins that had spread around the table like an infectious disease. You couldn't stop it no matter what you did, or how hard you tried.

D'Artagnan had a way of making people comfortable, putting them at ease. He had a way of making even some of the most horrible situations bearable. Or even make doing a simple pick-up job funny.

"Do you really think we're that dumb?" d'Artagnan said to Bonnaire before turning to look at the others. Instead of seeing them in agreement with him he saw sly grins and shrugs being exchanged. His eyes widened a fraction for a moment.

"Never mind, I guess we are." He said, a note of disbelief in his voice.

Athos hid a small smile in his glass as he took a sip. As much as he could laugh at it now, if they'd actually listened to him, everything about those couple of days would have gone smoother. Athos thought for a moment before he paled ever so slightly.

They'd, at the time, almost always ignored d'Artagnan's comments about a mission, saying he was a kid who didn't know any better. Now though, looking back on it, they'd been fools. How many times would his input have made their lives easier?

Athos vowed to himself then and there that when d'Artagnan regained his memories and was completely back with them, he'd make it up to him.

 

d'Artagnan ran down the streets of Paris as fast as he could, cutting through alleyways to get to the outskirts of the city. Once he reached his destination, he doubled over gasping for air as his starved lungs complained at the harsh treatment they had received.

The Gascon continued gasping, relishing the burn. He needed that, needed the pain to focus on. With all the thoughts spinning through his head in a never ending pattern, he needed a break in that train of thought.

How had his life come to this? How had everything spun so far out of control? Sure, he couldn't remember what life before was like, for all he knew it could have been crazy and fun with no break in between. But to him, ever since that night in the tavern, everything had changed. Everything he'd thought he knew was wrong, and everything he'd thought was wrong was true. And God, did he hate it.

D'Artagnan, being so absorbed in his thoughts, didn't hear the person coming up behind him. He didn't hear him until he heard a branch snap under the person's weight. Spinning around to determine the source, a muffled scream slipped from his lips as a hand clasped over his mouth.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello eveyone!  
> I'm so sorry! I just relized that I forgot to add chapter 9! So sorry!  
> Hope you enjoy!

d'Artagnan jerked out of the hold around his mouth, spinning around to confront his attacker. The man hit him in the side, not overly hard, just enough to make him gasp a moment for air at the slight pain in his ribs. The hand found its way around his mouth again, putting a stop to his almost scream. d'Artagnan moved as if to kick the guy, only to stop at a quiet male voice in his ear.

"They'll hear you. You need to stay quiet." d'Artagnan stopped his struggling, curiosity slowly replacing the panic. If this man wasn't trying to hurt him, then what was he doing? It's not as if someone just comes up behind you and gags you with their hand everyday, without there being something suspicious going on. People normally just walk up to someone and tell them to be quiet, not act like a common criminal. Right? Right.

"Who'll hear me and what the bloody hell? Who are you and what do you want with me?" d'Artagnan jerked away from the strange man's grasp, stumbling a moment before catching his footing. D'Artagnan turned to face the man, feet whisper silent against the soft, new, green spring grass. The man chuckled softly, moving closer to the wary Gascon.

"The men who followed you, Musketeer." d'Artagnan jerked slightly at the man's statement. Someone was following him? And how did this man know that he was a Musketeer? d'Artagnan had only just found that out himself. Unless this man recognized him from before. Could it be possible?

"How did you know I was Musketeer? And who are you?" d'Artagnan whispered. He didn't know why, but instinct told him to trust what this man was saying. He may not remember his time before Rochefort, the time when he was a Musketeer, but the knowledge and instincts honed from fighting and losing and winning and learning, told him to trust the stranger. It was almost as if, now that d'Artagnan is paying attention, he could sense another presence somewhere nearby. Watching, waiting, like a wolf stalks it's prey, waiting for the right moment to strike. The Gascon shivered and the cool evening breeze had nothing to do with it. He could feel the darkness waiting to strike at him.

"I followed you from the city, when I noticed the other guy following you. Once I looked to see where you came from, it wasn't hard to figure out you were from the garrison. That, and you carry yourself like a soldier which, if you ask me, paints a target right on your back. What if someone who was against the King were to realize who you were and you didn't have back up, huh? What then? What are you gonna do?" The man said to d'Artagnan. d'Artagnan frowned at him. He had two stalkers? And he didn't know he had either one? The Gascon mentally berated himself. He should know better, especially after all he'd been learning recently from the Musketeers. He knew that he had enemies, especially in Rochefort, and yet he still didn't pay attention. What was wrong with him?

"Don't beat yourself up too bad, lad. It was an honest mistake, granted one that could cost you your life, but still. Besides, you're not looking so good. You okay?" d'Artagnan looked at the man in surprise. How did the man know he was hurting? He was usually good at covering it. Well, not from Aramis it seems. That man had eyes in the back of his head, and a sensor for pain. It was disturbing.

"I'm fine. You still haven't answered who you are." The stranger looked at the young man in disbelief at the fine comment, but let it go. The stranger shook his head, muttering about stubborn kids these days before deigning to give him a response.

"Don't matter who I am. I'm just a good Samaritan is all. I better go now. You keep an eye out okay. Wouldn't want something to happen to you." The man disappeared into the shadows. d'Artagnan stepped forward a step as if to stop him, but ended up not. The man didn't want him to know anything about him and the Gascon would respect that. And right now, he had other things to worry about. Like, finding out who's following him and why.

 

Aramis lead his two friends up the stairs that lead to their rooms. As much as they missed the Gascon's company in their little group, the evening had turned out to be enjoyable. They'd pushed aside their depression and enjoyed a few drinks. Porthos and Athos might have had a few drinks too many, Aramis decided as he watched them weave their way down the path. Aramis chuckled in amusement, thinking about how much d'Artagnan would have enjoyed this. The thought sobered him a little. Their friend wasn't with them, and wouldn't be really until he got his memory back. Sure, he'd be with them at the garrison, thank goodness for that, but he wouldn't be with them. It wouldn't be the young man they knew and loved. It would be this husk, this...shell ofhim. He wouldn't remember them, or get their jokes, or the references they'd make. It just wouldn't be him. This was someone that they'd have to teach all over again.

Aramis shook himself from his thoughts when he noticed that Porthos and Athos were leaning on each other to keep stable and had stumbled too far down the walkway. The Spaniard sighed and shook his head in amusement and frustration at the two fools he called his brothers in front of him.

He stepped forward and grasped an arm on each of them, gently pulling them back in the right direction. They both stumbled into him at the change of direction, but pulled themselves back to mostly upright before they actually knocked him down. While he wasn't a weak man by any means, the weight of two men, one significantly larger than the other two, definitely would have crushed him a little.

Aramis pulled them both into Porthos' room, as it was closer and had the bigger bed. He helped the two men out of their boots and clothes, leaving them only in their smalls, before settling them in beside each other and covering them with a blanket from the foot of the bed. Pothos started snoring instantly while Athos made himself comfortable before drifting off. What he wouldn't do for these men.

Aramis silently made his way out of the room, intent on checking in on the Gascon before heading for his bed. He stepped lightly on the weathered wood, trying not to wake his sleeping compatriots. Once at the young man's door he knocked lightly and waited for a response. Receiving none, he quietly slipped the door open and stepped inside. Fumbling for a moment with the lantern that was by the door, he lit it stepping towards the bed on the far side of the room.

Aramis gasped, breath captured in his throat. The bed was empty. While the sheets were slightly rumpled, the bed definitely hadn't been slept in. The Spaniard ran out the door, not caring that he left it hanging open, towards the Captain's room. He banged loudly on the door, desperately calling for the man inside to open up.

Treville finally opened the door, scowling at the man on the other side. Concern slid across his features when he took in the panic on his Musketeer's face.

"What is it? What's wrong?" He demanded. Aramis just sat there breathing heavily, trying to hold back his pained sobs.

'It's d'Artagnan...he's gone."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy!

It wasn't long for news of d'Artagnan's plight to run it's course around the garrison, even with the early hour. Everyone was up and ready to form a search party in a matter of minutes. While no one liked to be disturbed from their slumber at this time of night, for this they would make an exception. This was for one of their own, and they wouldn't rest until he'd been found.

Treville headed down the stairs to split up and give orders to the men already gathered, while Aramis went to wake his brothers. Even dead drunk Athos and Porthos would have his head if he tried to exclude them. This was their youngest, their little brother, and they would do anything to find him.

Aramis pushed open the door to a sight that at any other time he would have found amusing. Pothos was laying on his stomach with Athos sprawled sideways along his back, feet hanging off the bed. Porthos was snoring into the pillow that was pressed tightly to his face, while Athos was mumbling in his slumber. Whether it was something nice or a nightmare of the past, Aramis didn't know.

Aramis stepped towards the bed, lightly tapping Porthos' arm which was trapped beneath Athos' legs. He stepped back, knowing that if he were any closer he might end up with a bloody lip or nose.

Porthos felt a foreign touch to his right arm and jerked awake. He nearly panicked and started a fight at the weight pinning him down but soon relaxed. He could hear Aramis soothing him from somewhere off to the side and Athos' mumbles of discontent at being woken so rudely above him. He shifted slightly and rolled, sending Athos off him and crashing into the wall and the other side of the bed. Porthos would've laughed at the look on his face had he not still been half asleep and his head hadn't been aching so much. He turned his head slightly to catch a glimpse of the Spaniard before frowning. He didn't look his usual suave and calm self. If anything, he looked outright scared in way that only meant trouble. He pushed himself onto his elbows, easing his body up against the headboard so he could get a better view of him and also ease the strain on his lethargic body.

Aramis waited a moment for the two to get settled slightly, even though he wanted to run out and go searching. He wouldn't do it without them unless he had to. Once Athos had himself settled, subtly leaning against Porthos' larger frame Aramis spoke.

"d'Artagnan's gone missing. We don't know for how long or if someone took him again." He stated as matter of factly as he could, though anyone who knew him well could hear the tremor and break in his voice. Porthos and Athos sat up straighter in their spots, fury and concern overwhelming them. They only just barely held themselves still enough to wait for the rest of what Aramis knew.

"Treville is setting up search parties and spreading them across the city and countryside. A few men are staying here to guard and be on the lookout and a few went..." Aramis trailed off for a moment, his composure cracking. Once he'd gotten himself slightly more put together he continued speaking softly.

"A few men went...went to the morgue. Treville wanted to cover all of our bases just to be sure." He finally got out. He didn't want to find the lively young man they called brother in the morgue. He didn't even want to think it, even though he understood Treville's concerns. They had no clue what happened to the Gascon.

"Rochefort." Athos growled out, shoving himself into a standing position. He brushed aside Aramis hands and concern when he wavered slightly and headed straight for the chair on which his clothes were held. He pulled on his breeches and boots, just getting to his shirt when he realized that Porthos was doing the same. Aramis sat silently as they dressed, waiting as patiently as possible for them to finish. No one wanted, no one could do this alone.

The trio rushed from the room and down the stairs heading for the horses. They didn't pay attention to Treville's shouts for them, and only just remembered to thank the stable boy for already having their horses saddled and ready for them to ride out. They'd almost made it out of the garrison, when three sets of hands grabbed the reins to their horses and pulled them to a stop. All three went to glare at their Captain, only to deflate at the look on his face. The worry and concern on the Captain's face showed he was just as panicked as they were, just better at hiding it. They allowed themselves to be led back towards the courtyard and dismounted, defeatedly sinking onto the benches. Aramis pulled off his hat to spin it around in his hands at the silence that followed.

Treville stood in front of the trio, seeing and understanding the grief that was hovering over them. They'd only just gotten the lad back, even if he didn't remember them. And now, he was gone again. He knew they wanted to run off to find him, but he couldn't let them do it unthinkingly and without caution. He knew they would've gone straight for Rochefort, and to be honest, he didn't blame them. Not after the revelations that had happened recently. But he knew they needed more proof than suspicion to search the man's residence.

"I know you wish to go after d'Artagnan, and I won't stop you. But I will make sure you do it with your heads on straight and logic at the forefront. I won't be able to help you if you storm Rochefort's estate with nothing to go on. And yes, I know you could say that you know he kidnapped d'Artagnan, but he could just say that he'd found him injured and took care of him, letting him choose his own name and path. And the King would believe him, what with all the trouble going on. So please, I ask of you, don't run into this rashly." Treville said. He meant what he said, he wouldn't stop them from looking. But he'd damn well make sure that they knew what they were doing.

Just then shouts started rising up from the guards at the gate, letting him know that one of the parties was back. The four of them rushed over, determined to see if they'd found the Gascon. The small crowd that had gathered let them through to the front, but stayed close to hear the verdict also.

A quick glance told them that the lad wasn't with them, but the grim looks on the riders faces said they'd found something. Treville felt his heart sink into his stomach when he recognized the men as the ones he'd sent to the morgue.

Everyone waited with bated breath as the riders caught their breath enough to tell them what they wanted to know. They both flashed apologetic looks the Inseparables way, before turning to the Captain.

"We just came from the morgue...and they say they have someone matching his description there. His body just arrived."


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! I hope you enjoy this installment:)

Aramis' knees buckled beneath him, which would have sent him crashing to the ground had it not been for Porthos' arms catching him. He didn't even notice that he was gently lowered to the ground, strong arms still wrapped around his middle. All he could think about was d'Artagnan, lying in the morgue having been all alone in death. None of them had been there, like they'd always thought they would be. They'd all thought they would go out in battle with honor, with their brother's by their side. But apparently, that was not to be for the young Gascon. Not only was he alone, but still without his memories also. That is what hurt the most for the Spaniard.

Porthos pushed aside his own fledgling of grief for the moment, determined to get help Aramis get back under control. He could feel the shakes wracking the lithe frame in his arms, sending shivers up his own spine. While they didn't know for sure if it was d'Artagnan laying on that slab in the morgue, it was enough to make them worry over it. How many people in Paris actually had looks like the Gascon? 10? 20? More? It could be anyone, not just their brother.

Athos stood in stony silence. He didn't believe that it could be d'Artagnan, he was sure he would have felt an emptiness in his soul at the loss of the bright young man in his life. He was sure of it. But, they did have to go identify the body just to make sure, Treville would do it himself if they didn't. But Athos needed to prove to the others that the Gascon wasn't dead. It just wasn't possible.

Treville stood by his men's sides watching as they grieved at the thought of the loss of their youngest. He knew that they needed to prove it, but with everything that's happened recently, he couldn't blame them for jumping to the conclusion of his death. In a way, if you thought about it, he was kinda dead to them anyway. He couldn't remember them, or joke with them, or anything that the Gascon would have done normally. He was still missing a part of himself.

Aramis pulled in a deep breath to try and get himself back under control. While the panic and grief was not an unfamiliar feeling, it had been a long time since he'd felt it this sharply. Not since Savoy. He pulled in another breath to distract himself from the thoughts threatening to overwhelm him. This wouldn't end up like that. He swore to himself years ago that he wouldn't let it happen again, and he was gonna keep that promise.

Porthos felt a shift from the body in his arms, warning him that the man was about to stand. He loosened his grip so Aramis could stand, but didn't remove it completely. He could tell that the Spaniard had pulled the ragged edges of his mask together, but to the people that knew him well, they could still see the breaks and cracks within it. He vowed to himself that he wouldn't let Aramis fall apart like all those years ago. He just had to make sure the man remembered that he was not alone this time. They had each other.

Aramis pulled a deep breath in and let it out slowly. Once he felt steady enough he took a step forward, then another, just focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. He could feel the presence of his brothers behind him, bringing him a little bit of comfort. He carefully and slowly made his way towards their horses. Once there he leaned his head against the saddle to compose himself some more. He finally turned towards the two behind him.

"We should go identify the body, now rather than later. If it is d'Artagnan, then he deserves a proper burial rather than staying in that horrible place." Athos and Porthos nodded their agreement, climbing onto their mounts before the three headed out through the gates. Treville watched them go with a heavy heart, eyes following them until they were out of sight.

God, please don't let that boy be dead. Their hearts couldn't take it.

 

D'Artagnan moved through the city with an ease that he didn't understand. He knew he couldn't remember anything from his previous life, but it seemed his feet did.

His mind wandered to the conversation he'd had with the strange man. What exactly did he want? He'd never said, only that he truly wanted to help him. Did he believe him? At the time his gut said so, but now he couldn't be sure. Ever since that talk he'd kept an eye on the shadows, watching for anything out of place. Though the dark places were slowly disappearing as the sun moved upwards towards the dawn.

He continued towards the garrison at a brisk pace, determined to get back and warn the others of the threat hiding in the shadows. He couldn't let the others go unwarned about the danger that might be following them.

He turned at the corner of the garrison, freezing in his spot for a moment at the sight of all the Musketeers milling around the garrison like a swarm of mosquitoes. What was going on? Had they been attacked? The King and Queen?

He strode forward intent on asking t he guards on duty what was going on, instead he didn't get the chance as a shocked look crossed over both their faces at the sight of him, before one of them turnied and shouted for Treville to come quickly. D'Artagnan took a look behind him just to make sure no one else was there, before striding through the gate, eyeing the guards warily as he eased past. He turned towards the stairs when he heard Treville's heavy footsteps coming towards him. He almost flinched at the look of anger on his face, but held his ground, not knowing what was going on.

Treville strode angrily towards the young man in front of him, about to give him a piece of his mind, until he saw the flinch that he knew he wasn't supposed to. His step faltered a moment before he continued on, only this time without so much of the anger. He knew that d'Artagnan couldn't remember any of them, and so couldn't be held responsible for not thinking of the others feelings. He didn't hold the loyalty to them that they held for him.

Treville came to a stop in front of the lad, placing both of his hands on the young man's shoulders, tight enough to get his point across, but loose enough that the Gascon could get away if he wanted to. He waited until the young man locked gazes with him before speaking.

"I'm not gonna yell, as you might think I will. I was, but then I remembered you didn't understand the same things you used to. You probably didn't mean it, but you worried people by disappearing like that and for how long you did. This might seem strange to you right now, but we care about you, especially that trio of men coming through the gates right now." Treville finished saying with a nod towards the gate where three riders were coming in. d'Artagnan swallowed, worried about what was gonna happen in the next few moments. He hadn't meant to worry these people, but he'd needed to get away for a little while, and it seemed he had and now they were upset.

D'Artagnan stood silently while the men hopped from their horses and passed the reins off to the stable boy before hurrying in his direction. He braced himself for someone to yell or hit him but that didn't happen. Instead, he felt multiple sets of arms wrap around his wiry frame and hold on tightly. He didn't know what to do for a moment, but eventually wrapped his own arms around the men, relishing the warmth and, surprisingly to him, love he felt radiating off of them, warming him from the inside out in a way he hadn't been for as long as memory would allow him to see.

Later, he'd tell them about the threat, but for now, he'd enjoy this.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Hope you enjoy this next part. Things are starting to heat up again!

"What do you mean, someone's following you around?" Porthos demanded, after hearing d'Artagnan's story and his meeting with the strange man outside the city. While he was worried that a stranger just walked up to the lad to tell him this, he was more worried about the fact that d'Artagnan had a stalker, and apparently might have for a while.

"He told me that there was a man following me, so as I headed back here I paid more attention and found out it was true. I was able to ditch him, I think, on the way here, but it's not a jump for people to figure out that I'm here. For all I know, they could already know I'm staying here." The Gascon responded, voice a little rough from all the talking he'd been doing since he arrived back at the garrison. After the emotional breakdown in the courtyard, they'd made their way to Athos' room and sprawled out everywhere. They'd all pretty much picked a spot and collapsed in a heap of clothes and flesh on the chairs, bed and floor.

"He's right. To anyone who's met him, they'd know he'd be here. Where else would he go?" Aramis pointed out to the group. He wasn't wrong, and they all knew it. Where would he go? Constance? Not without his memory he wouldn't. That only left them for him to go to. Not that he remembered them either, but they knew him better than anyone, and could defend him if any problems were to arise.

Athos, who'd sat silently through the whole explanation given by the Gascon, stood and walked over to the window, peering out into the darkness beyond. He knew that he was supposed to be the leader of this rag-tag group of soldiers, brothers actually, but for the life of him he didn't know what to do. He couldn't fight, or defend against, the monster in the shadows that nobody knew or understood. How could he defend his "family" when he didn't know what he was going up against? D'Artagnan had already been hurt once recently; could he handle it if he got hurt again? His mind was already a fragile place; could it handle more strain?

Aramis and Porthos watched as d'Artagnan's eyes followed Athos, his face covered in an indecipherable look. While the look was indecipherable to pretty much anyone else, the duo could see the uncertainty, confusion and fear swirling around in the dark depths of his eyes. They knew this was especially hard on him, what with his memory being gone and all, all the fighting and nurturing and the back and forth he seemed to be doing. They just hoped that when all the trouble rained down on them, as it doubtlessly would, he'd be able to trust them with his life.

Athos took a deep breath and turned away from the window. He'd thought about all the possible scenarios, his brain going a mile a minute, but this seemed like the best option. Now, just to convince the others of this.

"I have an idea. I'm not gonna say it's a great one, but it's a plan." When he got nods from the three men in front of him, he continued.

"Here's what we're gonna do."

 

"Sir, Julius is back with his report. He's waiting for you in the sitting room." A guard reported to Rochefort from the door. He stood at attention, waiting for his dismissal.

"Thank you, Gerard, you may leave." Rochefort replied from behind his desk, standing. The man gave a small nod and left, leaving Rochefort to gather his sword and coat from where it was hanging on a chair. Once he felt presentable again, he headed towards the private sitting room where his spy awaited him. Being a Comte had it's perks.

He pushed open the heavy, wooden door leading into the sitting room, stalking in before shutting it behind him. A man stood by the window waiting for the Comte to approach. Rochefort stepped up alongside him, both staring out the window in silence for a moment. Rochefort, unable to keep quiet any longer, asked.

"Did you get what I wanted?" Julius turned towards him a little, handing over a package. Rochefort took it, tucking it into his jacket.

"You were right. The kid still doesn't remember. I watched all day and all I could see is a bit of discord between the Inseparables." Julius reported, voice dripping with disdain at the mention of the Inseparables. Rochefort nodded, a leer overtaking his face. He turned back towards the window, his gaze on the courtyard where not a week ago he'd had the youngest Musketeer eating out of his hand.

"Good. Then everything is almost ready." Julius nodded, but stayed silent, also directing his gaze towards the courtyard.

 

The next morning found Treville pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes all the while combing down the piece of parchment in his hands. His eyes scrunched slightly at the corners, a testament to the headache brewing behind his eyes. He'd known the King was fond of Rochefort, especially recently, but this was insane. He couldn't expect this to actually work, could he? Things were already bad enough, but this would make it so much worse. But orders were orders, no matter how screwed up they were.

He stood and made his way out the door, stopping to watch as his men prepared for the day. He could see Serge heading towards the kitchen to prepare the morning meal. Groups of two or three were sprawled out sporadically around the garrison, doing anything from playful sparring to conversing in small huddles. Then there were the Inseparables. The four of them were sitting at their usual table, one that was teasingly called the Inseparables' because no one else sat there for fear of getting booted out by an annoyed and hungover Athos. He could tell that they were sitting in silence, none of their usual chatter and lively gestures taking place. Treville released a deep sigh. He was about to make that discord, ignored however it may be, a lot worse.

He gave another sigh before silently heading down the stairs towards his men. Time to get this over with.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey ya'll! I hope you enjoy this next part; I know it's a long time in coming. Enjoy!

Athos straightened in his seat when he saw Treville heading his way. It was the look on his face however, that made him cautious. Whatever he was about to tell them was bad news, he could feel it.

Porthos, who was across from Athos, noticed his tension the moment he straightened. He was tempted to turn himself and see what caused the reaction but held still. Something told him that taking a moment for a deep breath was a good idea.

Aramis noticed Porthos' distraction and turned around to see what had taken the two men's attention. Seeing Treville heading towards them with that look on his countenance gave him a sense of foreboding. Something wasn't right and he had a feeling finding out whatever it was would make it so much worse.

Treville noticed the Inseparables' attention on him and almost wanted to flinch. He knew what this assignment was going to do, but felt helpless to stop it. He had a suspicion about what was going on but no concrete proof. So, while he can't stop it, he can give Athos a warning.

d'Artagnan peered out through his hair at Treville who came to stand next to their table by him. While he knew logically that he was supposed to trust these men, he still stiffened up when they came too close like Treville just did without his permission.

Athos could feel the fight or flight radiating from the Gascon's stiff form. He wanted to reach out and grasp his shoulder in comfort, but knew the touch wouldn't be welcome. This was a far cry from what used to be normal. In fact, d'Artagnan had seemed to almost crave attention before, good or bad. Now, it scared him and that hurt Athos in a big way. He might not be the most tactile man himself, but even he can appreciate a warm clap on the shoulder or brotherly grasp.

"I need to see you all in my office. Now." Treville turned at that and left it hanging. He didn't want to do this in the middle of the courtyard, especially when the three started protesting and yelling. D'Artagnan, he knew, would stay silent, still not comfortable enough to say or defend what he wants. But the others would defend him. Of that he had no doubt.

"Sit down, all of you." Treville gruffly ordered. He didn't want them standing for this. Maybe he could reduce the amount destruction with this decision.

The Inseparables sat warily in chairs scattered around the room. D'Artagnan stayed standing though, leaning against the closed door. He folded his arms across his chest and wanted to shift, but held back lest he show his nerves. He could cut through the tension in the room with a knife if he wanted to. That only added to his own.

Aramis wanted to encourage d'Artagnan to join them in the chairs, but decided against it. He didn't want to scare the young man anymore than he already was but wanted everything to return to normal at the same time.

He wanted to be able to put a hand on the young man's shoulder.

He wanted to pull him into his arms for a desperate, brotherly hug showing the unspoken love that he held for him.

But he couldn't. None of those would be a welcome action. But, if he couldn't do any of those, how could he show the Gascon that he cared?

d'Artagnan could see the hurt looks on the Inseparables' faces and hurt for them, but couldn't bring himself to come closer to the Captain. He pretty much trusted the Trio, but the Captain was another story. Sure, he'd never given him a reason not to trust him, but he hadn't given a reason to either. At least the three did everything they could to show him that they cared. He was brought out of his thoughts by the gruff voice of said superior.

"I've gotten the next orders from the King. He wants a letter delivered to his brother-in-law in Savoy." Aramis tensed even more while the other two Inseparables sighed in relief. They'd thought it was gonna be something bad. This they could deal with. Only, Treville wasn't finished yet.

"Only two of you are going," Everyone tensed again at that. "with Rochefort as your companion." Protests erupted from around the room against the idea. They wouldn't work with Rochefort. Treville raised his hand to still the voices. Silence descended on the room again, though anyone could tell that is was forced.

"There is no option. An order is an order. d'Artagnan, the King has selected you and Aramis to ride, though he does know that you have amnesia. Apparently, Rochefort requested you." d'Artagnan couldn't hide his flinch from the four sets of eyes focused on him. There could only be one reason Rochefort still wanted contact with him, especially since he knew that d'Artagnan has been hiding out with the Musketeers.

He wanted to kill him.

"No way. Rochefort is not going anywhere near d'Artagnan. Not after everything he's done to him" Porthos protested, apparently taking Athos' words from him, if the mock glare directed towards him was any indication. Treville nodded in agreement.

"I agree, he shouldn't. But the King gave an order, so it needs to be done. Doesn't mean I can't send you two as reinforcements if I get this gut feeling that something's going wrong. Even the King can't deny the power of a soldier's instinct." His eyes gleamed with what could have been called mischief, but would never be said to the Captain's face, while his face was carefully blank.

"We came up with a plan last night for how to trip Rochefort up. It's not a safe one, or even a sane one, but it should work. Theoretically." Athos stated, pushing aside his anger and worry for his brothers to let the soldier take control. They couldn't afford for him to think with his heart and get them all hurt, or worse – killed.

"Good. Refine it by tomorrow. You leave in the morning." Treville said in dismissal. The four exchanged a look.

"Don't you want to know what it is?" Athos questioned. This was unlike the Captain. Treville just nodded.

"Better if I don't know anything. Then I can cover for you to the King without having any information if questioned." Athos nodded and stood, leading the way towards the door. D'Artagnan, the last one there, was stopped by Treville's voice.

"d'Artagnan. Be careful." d'Artagnan looked over the superior's face for any sign of deception, but nodded in reply when he saw none. He then turned and followed his brothers.

It was time to end this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll have any ideas about what's gonna happen?


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope ya'll enjoy this!

The next morning brought fear and anticipation to four Musketeers. Today was the day they put their plan of catching Rochefort into action. All of them were looking forward to seeing him hung for everything he's done, from before and now.

Athos stood at the window of his room which overlooked the streets as the sun slowly rose, casting a soft light on everything. To the untrained eye he looked as stoic as ever before but to those who knew him, as Aramis did, you could see the fear hidden in the depths of his eyes casting a shadow on his countenance.

Aramis slowly rose from his spot on the floor and silently made his way towards his friend. Athos shifted slightly to the side to make room for the Spaniard when he sensed him coming closer.

There was a few moments of silence that passed between them. It wasn't uncomfortable or heavy, just the companionable silence that came with being good friends, or in their case, brothers.

One might find it strange that four grown men would rely on one another so much, but to them...it was natural. When you trusted someone with your life on a daily basis it formed a bond that couldn't be broken. Strained yes, but never broken. And Aramis had never been more grateful of that fact.

He knew that things had been strained between everyone before all this happened. And to be honest, a lot of that was his fault. Only Athos knew of his relationship with the Queen, and he looked down on it. Aramis was afraid to tell the others for fear of their reactions. So, he pushed them away. And then the whole thing with Porthos and his father. d'Artagnan and Constance, Athos and Milady. Everything became so complicated and time consuming that they started snapping at each other for no reason. And they hadn't had time to fix things between each other before d'Artagnan lost his memory. Now, he couldn't even remember the problem to fix. Aramis' heart ached for the relationship and trust lost between the brothers, but especially him and d'Artagnan. At least he still had the chance to fix things between him and Athos and Porthos but with the Gascon...unless his memory returned all that was lost was never to be saved.

Athos could feel the tension radiating off of Aramis in waves and knew exactly what he was thinking. It was those same thoughts that had him up earlier than ever. He too had the same dilemma. When had everything gone so wrong that it caused this? Sure, things had been harder between them recently, but everyone goes through periods like that. But thinking about it...It probably was because they stopped talking to each other. Instead, they snapped and snarled and insulted. Every statement, every jab was meant to hurt. If only they'd pulled their heads out of their behinds sooner, maybe they could have prevented this. If they had fixed things like they were supposed to then d'Artagnan wouldn't have gone out alone that day. He would have had his brothers by his side. Instead, they were here being spiteful and sulking, coming up with all the reasons how their brothers had wronged them. Figures it took losing one to show them how wrong they were. And then they got him back...just not whole.

d'Artagnan coming back the way he was put things into perspective for the trio. It showed them how wrong everything was between them. Only, they hadn't done anything about it. Now, they could only hope it wouldn't be too late.

Athos turned towards Aramis, opening his mouth to say something, but the Spaniard just shushed him and leaned into his side slightly.

"Shh...I know. Me too. There's no need to say anything."Aramis knocked his head softly into Athos' shoulder.

Athos nodded, grateful that he didn't have to say anything. How could he express how sorry he was and how much he loved his brothers with just words?

Porthos silently willed the tears in his eyes away from his spot on the bed as d'Artagnan's pillow. The young man was draped across him, his torso covering half of Porthos' and his arm flung out across the other half.

He knew what Athos and Aramis were talking about and wished he could make his own apologies to his brothers. They all knew there was a big chance that one or more of them would die today...but it was the only plan they had. They had to stop Rochefort before he hurt anyone else, no matter the cost to them. It was their duty to protect the King, Queen and France. What other choice did they have?

Porthos carefully shifted his little brother off of him before slowly standing and making his way across the room towards his other brothers. He put a hand on each of their shoulders.

"I'm sorry also. No matter what happens t'day, I hope you know how much I care for you all. Now come, let's go catch us a Rochefort." He clapped the shoulders he'd grabbed lightly, slipping into his clothes from the chair they'd been draped over.

His words spurred the other two into action. They pulled on their own clothes and Aramis left, claiming he was going to get them something to eat before the day really began. Athos walked over to the bed that held the young Gascon, who hadn't woken at their voices or Porthos moving him. He reached out a hand, and while the Gascon was still in deep sleep he gently ran his fingers through the young man's dark hair. He didn't know if he'd be able to take this pleasure again so decided that now would be a good time.

Porthos grinned from his spot behind the older man at the sight of the comforting gesture being displayed. Their leader never showed his softer side unless one of them was hurt. Then and only then, did you see strong emotion. You saw glimpses of it in everyday life in his small smiles or claps on the back or the pride in his eyes when they did something great. He might be stoic but he showed his love in his own ways and they'd learned to read and understand, this was just one of those obvious moments.

Athos stopped moving his hand through his protoge's hair and moved it to his shoulder instead. He gently shook the younger man in an attempt to wake him.

"d'Artagnan, lad, it's time to wake. We have a long day ahead of us."

A groan escaped the young man's mouth when he moved slightly. He blinked his eyes a few times until Athos found himself looking into the Gadcon's expressive dark orbs.

"There we go. You must rise if you are to meet Rochefort at the specified time."

d'Artagnan groaned at his mentor's reminder of what his day was going to hold. In the oblivion of sleep he'd forgotten that today he was going to confront his...enemy. That today might be the day that he dies. And to be honest, he'd be okay if that came to fruition. He'd accepted his fate when they'd come up with this plan. It helps that he felt he had no one to fight to live for. He had found comfort with these three men, but without his memories...he was just an empty shell to them. So he'd made the decision that if it came down to it he'd give his life to save these men instead of allowing them to sacrifice themselves for him. They had people to live for even if he's gone. There was or reason for him to tell them that though, so he kept it to himself.

Athos would have smiled at the Gascon's groan of distaste had he not known the reason behind it. He was about to send his little brother into the Lion's Den. Hopefully, if things start to go awry, as they all expected it would, they'd be there to help him. The thought of what should happen if they were to fail left a bitter taste in his mouth and had his stomach churning.

He knew this was his plan, but he'd hoped that his brothers would have come up with a better one and talked him out of this one. Only, they couldn't and it seemed like this was the only option. And there were so many ways it could go wrong...

Athos prayed to a God he hadn't believed in for years that he'd protect them all in this coming battle. He prayed he wouldn't lose another brother. If he did, he knew he'd never recover from the loss. To some that might seem disturbing but he didn't care. He already lost one brother to a killer and it nearly killed him. These men had become the family he'd lost all those years ago. They'd wormed their way past the defenses that surrounded his heart. First Aramis and Porthos and then d'Artagnan. But it was the youngest of them that he'd really connected with.

At first he'd been annoyed, maybe even scared to have a protégé, especially one as self-sacrificing and innocent. d'Artagnan might be prideful ad self assured but even if he came across as cocky, those who knew him even a little could tell he wasn't. The pride was a Gascon thing but everything else was either a false front or a well earned right.

After months of training and working with the boy Athos began to notice a pattern. d'Artagnan's self-sacrificing nature came from believing himself not worthy of someone being hurt protecting him, even if it was just a scratch or bruise. After more study on all the Inseparables' part- with Aramis and Porthos seeing what Athos said- they'd slowly worked on helping show the Gascon that it was okay if someone cared enough to sacrifice to save you. It wasn't until it clicked with the Gascon that they weren't going anywhere and that they'd give anything to protect each other- as he would do for each of them-and that that included him that he really started to trusting them. Over time his confidence grew and the self-sacrificing subdued. It didn't diminish completely, as they still had to occasionally have the same talk with him, but everything worked better and the trio realized that they cared as much for their forth as they did for each other.

Athos was brought out of his musing by the said young man returning to the bed to pull on his boots, fully clothed and Aramis returning with breakfast. The smell of freshly baked bread made him realize that he was more hungry than he thought he could be, considering what the day was going to hold for them. The grin of appreciation on Porthos' face suggested that his friend had thought the same thing. With a light hand he gently guided their youngest to the table to eat with them after catching the look of hesitation.

When Aramis had come through the door he'd caught the serious expressions on his friends faces and knew exactly what they were thinking.

After the semi start to fixing things between the three of them this morning his thoughts had turned to how to fix things with d'Artagnan, even without his memories. He'd thought about it the whole walk to and from the bakery and came to only one conclusion. Treat him like they normally would. Maybe he wouldn't remember how they used to treat him before the whole mess but maybe he'd feel comfort from it. There was no way to know and one thing was for sure; he wasn't letting any of them go out on this dangerous mission without clearing the air. With that thought in mind, the Spaniard cleared his throat and started speaking.

"I know that this might not be the best time to do this, but I couldn't let us go out on this mission that could potentially kill one or more of us without at least saying something to help fix what went wrong between us." Aramis took a deep breath and fixed his eyes on the most important people in his life next to his son.

"I'm sorry." Aramis trembled out. "I know that my secrets and distance caused some of the strife and extenuating circumstances created more to pile on to it. While I can't tell you why I was that way, as much as I dearly wish to, I hope you know that I care about you all very much and wish with everything I have that things could go back to when we trusted each other." Done with his spiel, Aramis leaned back in his chair tiredly even though his heart felt lighter than it had in a long time.

"My turn with the whole confession thing." Porthos leaned forward on his elbows.

"With finding out about my father and knowing that Athos and Aramis were keeping secrets I turned cold and distanced. I was pretty much hurting you all because I was hurting myself and I'm sorry for that." Porthos dropped his head but his shoulders slumped in relief.

Athos' eyes darted between his friends. He drew in a breath and knew it was his turn for a confession.

"I owe you all my apologies as well." Athos started then stopped. He didn't know how to continue. But after another moment he knew what he needed to say.

"I'll admit that the whole thing Anne left me drained and ill towards others and that led to you all thinking I didn't care and I'm so sorry for that. I'm really sorry to all of you for not being there when you needed or asked and I hope you'll forgive me for that error." Athos finished his confession and knew that it wasn't as specific as Aramis and Porthos' but hoped that it showed his sincerity.

d'Artagnan had been shocked at first by the confessions before realizing that they'd come to the same conclusion he had. It was a moment later that he realized he was the only one who hadn't spoken up. With a nervous shake in his voice he started.

"This might not be appropriate without my memories as I can't remember anything that you guys claimed to have done or that I did but I'd like to say something." The young man swallowed anxiously at all the eyes directed at him with shock filling them. With his hands shaking he continued.

"I don't know my real personality or yours or even our real relationship to one another but from what I've witnessed and what has been said, I'd like to think that apologies wouldn't be needed and that forgiveness would be given without thought. I apologize for whatever part I had in all this and I want you to know that you all have my forgiveness." d'Artagnan hoped he'd said the right thing and hadn't stepped over any boundaries. His eyes widened in surprise and then happiness when Aramis' arms wrapped around him in a tight hug. He could feel the tears falling against his neck but didn't say anything as he just wrapped his own arms around his friend. Aramis pressed his face even more firmly into the Gascon's flesh.

"Thank you." Was whispered softly into d'Artagnan's neck. He just responded by squeezing a little bit tighter.

"No thanks necessary my friend."

Porthos and Athos both had tears in their eyes at the scene in front of them. But all the fighting against them in the world didn't have a chance when they both were wrapped in hugs by the Spaniard and Gascon. After a moment of them all relishing the comfort of the embrace Athos pulled away and inconspicuously wiped away his tears before leveling his voice into command mode.

"We need to leave or else we'll be late to our appointment with a certain Comte."

That statement proceeded to dump coldness on their warm feelings but they all nodded and stepped away from each other. As everyone went to leave the room Athos spoke up again.

"Whatever happens today, I'll be forever grateful that we cleared the air between us. Now, let's all live so we can appreciate it." They all nodded, determination filling them. They would do whatever it took to come back to each other.

OOO

Rochefort straightened his clothes while looking in the mirror at his reflection. He smirked and straightened his hair. He wanted to look his best for today. Because today would be the day the he brought down the Musketeers. Maybe not all of them, yet, but he would put down one of the key players. With this elimination he would cause a domino effect within the Musketeers. This death would cause the Inseparables to disperse in grief, putting the other Musketeers in jeopardy from having been thrown for a loop. This would make them make mistakes and cause the whole regiment to be disbanded. His plan had holes, sure, but for the most part it was fool proof. It was gonna be a great day.

After one more triumphant look in his mirror the Comte headed out. He didn't want to be late to his own party.

He headed down the stairs, completely ignoring the scurrying of the maids as they tried to avoid him. He was known for his temper, even in his own house. The only reason they stayed was for the money and out of fear. He'd made it known that if they were to do wrong they would end up in the secret dungeon hidden underneath the house.

But there was one servant, the cook in fact, that wasn't as afraid as the others in the house. and being in the position he is, he overheard quite many a conversation. It was because of this that he was able to send a message to the Captain of the Musketeers. He only hoped that it arrived in time and that the man even believed him. He knew that working for the enemy put him in a precarious position but he couldn't in good conscience allow this to go on without a warning.

Unbeknownst to the cook, Rochefort had intercepted the message and destroyed it. Because of this he'd already planned to execute the man and get rid of the body. It was disappointing, as he'd enjoyed the man's food, but he couldn't allow traitors to live and interrupt his plans to gaining control of the royalty. Once he finished his plan for today, he'd take out the child King and his son so he could marry the grief stricken Queen and take over the throne.

His lust for Anne, the Queen, made things all the easier. And who would she trust to marry more than her most loyal confidant? It would be so easy to step into place as her husband. He would have to get rid of the handmaid Constance Bonacieux, as he knew of her relationship with d'Artagnan. He didn't need her convincing her Majesty that he was the devil.

Rochefort stepped out onto the porch, enjoying the morning air as he waited for the stable boy to bring round his steed.

Once mounted, he headed out to the meeting spot he'd selected. A few of his own men followed behind to take care of any meddlesome soldiers that decided to show up.

It was an hour before he arrived at the secluded meeting spot. His men dispersed and settled into their spots among the trees and shrubbery. Now, he just had to wait.

OOO

d'Artagnan entered the small alcove in the trees slowly. keeping an eye out for signs of more than one enemy. There was nothing obvious, just a feeling in the pit of his stomach. A voice in the back of his mind said it was a trap and he agreed with it.

He came to a stop a few feet from Rochefort. A shiver crept up through him at the cold darkness staring back at him. How could he have ever called this man brother?

Rochefort grinned inwardly in glee at the fear in the Gascon's countenance. This was what he wanted and what he'd been waiting for. Not too long now and his plan will be put into action. The Comte made sure his features were schooled before handing the missive that was to be delivered to the younger man.

"We must leave now if that is to be delivered on time. And out of my generosity, I'll even let you carry it if it'll make you feel better." The missive was hesitantly taken from his grasp and he headed down the desired path. After a moment he heard the Musketeer start to follow.

The trip was taken in silence, as neither man wished to carry on a conversation with the other. About four hours into the two day trip they came upon a couple of trees blocking the route. The men pulled to a halt and d'Artagnan backed his horse away from the other man, the uneasy feeling from earlier returning full force. His eyes darted around looking for any sign of his friends. Panic rose in his throat at the thought of no backup to help him. There was a click from behind him and he froze before turning slowly to face the enemy. He met the eyes of the sneering man holding a gun towards his chest.

"How bout we take a little ride, hmm."


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey ya'll! Hope you enjoy this next part; we're reaching the end:)

d'Artagnan eyes flitted to the right, catching and holding the sight of the man that was still holding a gun to him. It had been over an hour since he'd been cornered and he hadn't seen any sign of his friends. That scared him more than the gun trained on him did. He almost didn't care if he died, but he didn't want the others to be hurt because of him. And it was because of him; he now saw that Rochefort had been planning his demise since the beginning of all this, the whole brother thing was just to hurt the Inseparables and the other Musketeers. What he didn't know, was how much would this hurt the others. This morning, before they'd gone through their confessions and forgiveness, he'd told himself that they would be able to move on. They'd hurt and grieve, but continue on with their lives. Now, he wasn't so sure. After all the things that were admitted and forgiven, after the embrace he'd received from Aramis, he wasn't sure they would, or even could move on. He knew they'd lost people before and dealt with it for the most part, but he had a feeling that it was nothing quite like this.

They'd told him he'd lost his father a little over a year ago and that he had no one else to call family. While he couldn't remember that event, he knew it was true. But upon thinking about it, he thought they were wrong about the not having a family thing. They called each other brother, and meant it with everything they had. They were his family.

d'Artagnan's arms jerked to the side, the rope tying his hands together making it possible for his captor to do so. His left shoulder throbbed at being extended too far over his body and the force of the pull. He barely held back a wince, not wanting to give Rochefort the pleasure of seeing him in pain. He'd rather die.

Rochefort frowned at the lack of a response he was getting from the younger man. He knew that had to have been painful, but there was not so much as a twitch on the Musketeers face. He wanted to jerk even harder, just for fun, but held back on the impulse. They were almost to their destination, and he would put his plan into place. He hadn't seen his men and assumed that was because they held back the young lad's friends, as there had been no sign of them either; and so he would continue right on with his plans. A smirk graced the corners of his lips as his eyes lit up in devilish glee. Yes, today was going to be a good day.

d'Artagnan absently rubbed at his bound wrists, eyeing the look on the Comte's face; just knowing it didn't bode well for him. That smirk, almost a leer, of glee caused shivers to run down his spine. He'd seen that look before, he just didn't know where. It was familiar in a way that scared him, like something haunting his dreams or leftovers of a nightmare. Something that frightened without reason. Why would he feel like that?

He looked around for any sign of his friends, hell, just someone to help him get out of this situation, but none were within sight. He knew it had been a long shot as this part of the woods was rarely travelled, but he'd hoped anyway. He didn't want to end up where Rochefort was taking him, didn't want to find out what the man was going to do to him.

Images flashed through his mind; of him screaming as something was dug into his shoulder, memories of searing pain slicing through his middle, knees giving out from the force of a blow. He jerked his head, the unexpected memories startling him. What were they? What did they mean? Could he actually be remembering? But why now?

He'd wanted to start remembering things while he was with his friends, so they could be there to help sort everything out. What was real, what was part made up, what was imagination. He didn't know anymore. Everything was so jumbled up in his mind; like everything was dumped in haphazardly. And he didn't have a scale to base anything on, as his mind was void of anything of import. What could he do but hope his friends could help him.

The Gascon turned his attention to the matters at hand when his horse stumbled and he slipped to the side a little in the saddle. He righted himself, under the careful eye of his captor of course, and mentally told himself to keep more aware of his surroundings. He was already at a disadvantage, he didn't need anymore open areas for the enemy to strike.

For now, he would bide his time, waiting -hoping- for an opening to make his escape.

###

Athos pushed his horse hard, Aramis and Porthos right behind him. Rochefort's men had succeeded in delaying them so much that they'd lost their youngest's trail. Luckily, after much persuasion by Aramis' capable hands, one of the men had given them the location of the rogue Comte's destination. And thank heavens they were able to find a short cut. Hopefully that would put them closer to getting there when Rochefort and his captive did.

When they'd first lost sight of them, suspicion ran through them, but they hadn't worried too much about it. But when all the men ambushed them in a narrow part of the path they'd known instantly that something was even more wrong than they'd thought. Once they'd defeated the other party, answers were wrung out of them. Horrifying was one word to describe Rochefort's plan for conquering France. How he thought he'd achieve it, they didn't know, but it had been thought out enough with just enough truth to make it seem like it could happen. But what they knew Rochefort didn't count on was Treville heading to his estate with permission to search the premises. Hopefully, he and his team would find something to help put the Comte away for good. They didn't need this whole thing happening again; once was more than enough.

d'Artagnan being a trouble magnet didn't help matters any. What should be a simple missive delivery to a neighboring town could end with him having broken leg or a sprained ankle. How the young man did it they didn't know, they just knew that unless they were there bad things turned even worse. Look at what has recently happened.

The trio cleared the tree line and hit an opening that led to what looked like an old hunting cabin. The abandoned feel it gave off set them all on edge. What was this place? That question was sparked in all their minds, especially as soon as the broken windows that looked to be smeared in blood came into view. Aramis' complexion took on a slightly green hue as the smell of rotting blood and flesh hit their nostrils. Porthos grimaced, wrinkling his nose but shook it off. Athos stoically ignored the stench as he gazed carefully at their surroundings.

The dilapidated old cabin left much to be desired, but it was the forest surrounding it that attracted Athos' attention. There was miles of trees between them and a travelled road. Nobody would be able to hear anything that happened here. Could this be where d'Artagnan was held before? They'd searched the road but hadn't gone this deep into the forest. They would forever regret that choice.

"Split up and stay out of sight. We'll wait for them to show before we do anything. Aramis, I'd suggest you use the inside of the house for cover." Aramis gave Athos a nod of consent before disappearing into the house. Athos and Porthos were about to head towards their own positions when the sound of gagging reached their ears. They ran towards the house, reaching the porch just as Aramis came stumbling out, clutching his stomach as he was still heaving. Porthos grabbed his friend's shoulder, leading him away while Athos went to check it out.

Stepping through the door almost had him throwing up from the smell but he held it in. He did a quick search of the combined kitchen and living area before heading to the one bedroom in the place. He stopped and turned away from the door as the sight of a rotted corpse hanging from the ceiling reached his view. He swallowed and maneuvered his eyes around the body, gaze focussing on the room while fury filled him.

Chains and cuffs were attached to the four posts of the bed frame, blood drying and rotting skin hanging off of them, tell tale signs of d'Artagnan's struggle to get free. But what really pissed him off was the blood coated whip, dirty knife and the brand sitting over by the fireplace which was opposite the bed. Athos clenched his fists, his anger rising to an all-time high. Rochefort was going to pay for this.

He strode intently from the room, his footsteps thundering against the wooden floor. Porthos and Aramis both looked up from their spot on the ground at his arrival in the doorway. Porthos' gaze was questioning while Aramis' was sympathetic to his plight. He gave a small sigh and headed their direction.

"We still need to get to cover; they'll be here soon." Aramis looked fearfully towards the house but Athos' nod telling him not to had him sighing in relief. He didn't want to go back in there ever again. Ever.

"Alright, Aramis, use the trees opposite the door way for cover, but be careful 'cause they might see you when coming up. Porthos and I will head towards the back to cover the windows. Agreed?" Nods of assent were given and everyone headed for their hiding places. Aramis crouched down behind a boulder and large tree, certain that no one could see him when coming up the pathway. He pulled his musket out of its sack, his grip on it sure and steady. He was ready for this fight.

It was time for it all to be over.

###

d'Artagnan's heart gave a clench before completely stuttering when a familiar cabin came into view. Images poured over his brain, pain being the common denominator between all of them. His pain.

The smell was horrendous, causing his eyes to water. Rochefort just rode on steadily until he reached the porch, the stench not causing him to falter a bit. D'Artagnan was scared to debate on why that was.

Rochefort dismounted before pulling his unwilling guest off of his horse, not bothering to catch him when he fell. d'Artagnan hit the ground with a grunt, his already strained arms protesting and his ribs giving a dangerous creak. He looked up from his spot on the ground, defiantly gazing into Rochefort's smirking gaze.

"Look at you, little Musketeer. Even before I've done anything, you're on the ground, bowing before me. You just despise it, don't you? Having been outsmarted by me after all your attempts to thwart me have failed." d'Artagnan refused to say anything to the taunt, as that was all it was. He wasn't going to stoop the the other man's level. Unfortunately, him not responding angered Rochefort and the man kicked him in the side, nailing his already sore ribs, causing him to roll. The Gascon coughed and tried to push himself up with his bound arms, only to recieve another kick only this time to his stomach. A wheeze sounded as he tried to get some air into his lungs. He gave another cough before trying to push himself up again. Rochefort grabbed a handful of his hair, pulling him upwards with the painful grip, before tossing him into the porch's edge. His head cracked against the wood, the pain encompassing him, even as more memories of previous pain poured into his brain. He gasped in shock clutching at his head as the memories continued to pour into him. His breathing steadily increased until he was gasping.

At last it seemed like the flow of memories stopped and he looked up into the confused, if sneering face of his captor. A laugh escaped his lips, the joyous sound echoing through the trees. The confusion on the Comte's face grew and he shoved his foot into the younger man's side, pushing him to the ground. But that didn't stop the young man from his chuckling.

"I remember. I remember everything." The words came out breathless, d'Artagnan looking towards the other man in disdain.

"This is where you brought me before. This is where I suffered through so...much...pain." Emotions choked him on the last three words, exaggerating his tone. Rochefort face slipped into shock before just as easily settling into a smile.

"Yes, it is. To be honest, I'm surprised you started remembering, but it doesn't matter. You won't live long enough to tell anybody." He pulled his musket out of the holster, pointing it at the downed Musketeer.

"Good bye, d'Artagnan." d'Artagnan closed his eyes just as the sound of a gunshot ripped through the still air.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Is it done?" Porthos looked up to Athos' hard gaze. He knew the anger well, as he felt it himself.
> 
> "It is. Let's just say he's gonna rue the day he decided to mess with the Inseparables."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey ya'll! I've actually had this mostly done for a while just never had the time to finish it til now, so I'm sorry for that. Hope ya'll enjoy and please review:)

d'Artagnan blinked and opened his eyes when the pain from the bullet hitting him never appeared. He looked down at his body quizzically and stared uncomprehendingly when he didn't see a hole in his clothes or blood draining out of him. He blinked again and frowned. He knew there should have been a wound, but one wasn't seen. His eyes blurred from his unblinking stare and he slipped sideways slightly. Arms suddenly tightening around him were the only thing holding him up. He jerked and went to fight but stilled when a familiar voice softly addressed him.

"Easy, d'Artagnan, it's okay now. You're safe." Aramis continued giving soft platitudes to the almost delirious confused young man in his arms, paying absolutely no attention to the unholstered pistol at his side. His shot hadn't missed it's target and that's all he cared about other than his young friend right now.

His eyes met his two other brothers, giving a nod to let them know that everything was okay. They'd waited by the sidelines, worried about scaring their brother in his confused state, but now eased forward with Aramis' assent. Athos brushed a hand through d'Artagnan's matted with blood hair, gently pulling at the tangles while lending his comforting presence to the younger man. Porthos settled a hand on on the Gascon's knee, silently watching the still confused blinking of the young man.

"'Mis?"

"Yes. You gave us quite the scare." Aramis ran his eyes over his younger brother again, not wanting to miss a wound if there was one. While he didn't see a bullet wound, he could see a large amount of bruises and could feel heat rising from his inflamed shoulder. While maybe not dislocated, it was definitely strained. There was blood oozing from a small gash on the young man's head, most likely caused by Rochefort's ring when he'd struck him. Fury rose at the treatment d'Artagnan had received at the Comte's hands, but he held it back through barely there control. Now wasn't the time to take his revenge; getting the Gascon back to the garrison was his first priority.

Athos' hand subconsciously kept moving through the young man's hair, soothing himself just as much as their younger brother. He didn't get to do this with Thomas, to be there for him when he was needed, and even though the Gascon wasn't dying it seemed, he couldn't leave him. He'd already lost one brother without a good-bye, he wouldn't let it happen again.

"Wha' happened?" d'Artagnan mumbled, swaying when he tried to hold himself up. Aramis just tightened his grip on the young man and held him still. d'Artagnan slumped back against his friend, tucking his head against his shoulder and neck. Aramis just squeezed him lightly.

"It's over, that's all you should worry about. It's over now. Just rest." d'Artagnan gave a small nod in response and closed his eyes, immediately drifting off, the strain his body had been through tiring him. The Inseparables watched him for a moment to ensure he was asleep, before turning towards the injured man collapsed several feet away. Their eyes narrowed in contempt and disgust before looking towards each other, the silent conversation visible to anyone. Eventually Porthos stood and went over to their prisoner, dragging him away from the others and tying him to the railing of the small set of stairs leading to the damnable cabin, uncaring of his whimpers and moans of pain. That wasn't much compared to what he'd put their brother through and Porthos hadn't even started in on everything he wanted to do to the man.

Athos and Aramis watched Porthos and the careless way he treated the soon to be former Comte with grim satisfaction. It wasn't what they wanted to see done to the man, but it was all they would get for now. They couldn't risk injuring him too much if they wanted to see him hanged, and they wanted that dearly. While not enough of a punishment for his actions, it would be some form of justice for d'Artagnan.

"Will he be okay?" Aramis looked over to Athos, whose gaze was back on the young man in his arms. He followed his gaze down to the sleeping Gascon with his own sad one. Physically, the Gascon would live and be fine. But the emotional trauma these last few months have brought him...He didn't know if he'd survive that. There was only so much a person could go through before breaking, and their Gascon had been through his fair share in his short life.

He wanted to believe the best, but as a someone in the medical profession, while unofficially, he knew the damage that could be done mentally. Savoy had been a big one for him, just like Thomas and Milady had been ones for Athos; and they all had their ways of coping. He lost himself in the pleasures a woman could bring, while Athos drank excessively. They were both unhealthy, but they'd seen worse. He was worried about what d'Artagnan might do if he couldn't find a way to deal with it. And while they'd be there for him every step of the way, d'Artagnan could be tricky.

"Aramis?" Athos' worried voice pulled him out of his depressing mental meanderings. He shook his head and sighed.

"He should be fine physically, but mentally..." He trailed off. Athos sat in silence, trying to think of something to say but decided against it. What could you say? They all knew the things that could happen when someone had a broken mind.

"He won't do that." Aramis and Athos looked over to their friend. Porthos stood a few feet away, his arms crossed in front of him.

"He won't do that. 'e's not like those who can't deal with the trauma; he's strong. He's strong and stubborn and he has us. So stop t'inking of him like that. Especially when you know 'e's not gonna do something like that." The Inseparables stared at one another. Eventually, Athos gave up and shook his head.

"He's right, Aramis. d'Artagnan's more stubborn that anyone we've ever met. He'll make it." Aramis' gaze darted between his two brothers. A sigh escaped him and he looked back down at the sleeping man.

"I hope you're right...I hope to God you're right."

XXX

Rochefort shook the gates on his cell, fury flowing through him. This wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to get caught. This was supposed to be about the time that the Musketeers fell apart. Not with him sitting in a jail cell waiting for his execution date while his victim was alive and well back at the Musketeer garrison.

He slammed his fist against the wall. His whole plan, ruined. All because of some stupid kid who was trying to be a Musketeer. Sure the kid has his commission, but that didn't mean he deserved it. He was a farm boy from Gascony who didn't know what being a soldier required. He deserved the beatings and the shame and everything else he felt. He deserved it all!

Rochefort jerked away from the cell gate, pacing back and forth. What was he gonna do? He had to get the majesties back on his side. But how? He could tell them that d'Artagnan was a rat. But would the King believe that of his favorite Musketeer? Probably not.

The Comte was so focused on his musings he didn't notice when someone walked towards the entrance of his cage. He jerked his head around when the gate creaked open and someone was shoved in next to him. The guard locked the door and walked away, and out of the prison. Rochefort shifted uneasily as something about this didn't seem right.

The other prisoner leaned back against the wall, shadowed eyes examining him, studying him. He shifted a little, now leaning against his shoulder. Rochefort stepped back, leaning against his own wall across from the other man.

"You Rochefort?" The Comte jerked. How did this homeless guy know his name?

The other prisoner stood straighter and walked over to him, pinning Rochefort against the wall with nowhere to go. His eyes darted around looking for an escape but finding none as the other prisoner was larger than him. He darted his gaze up to the man's face, the cold amusement he found startling him to his core.

"Porthos sends his regards, as he couldn't be here himself." Rochefort only had enough time for his eyes to widen before a fist rained down on his face, blackness encroaching.

XXX

Athos and Aramis looked up as Porthos stepped into the room, his gaze immediately going to the unconscious Gascon lying on the bed. His eyes met theirs worriedly, but Aramis' nod letting him know their younger brother was okay had him relaxing a bit.

"Is it done?" Porthos looked up to Athos' hard gaze. He knew the anger well, as he felt it himself.

"It is. Let's just say he's gonna rue the day he decided to mess with the Inseparables." The three men shared a grim smile before turning their attention back to the person who mattered right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was so short. I wanted it to be longer but this just felt right. Hope you enjoyed:)


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey ya'll!  
> Hope you all enjoy this last chapter! Thank you for sticking with me through it all!

A groan escaped his lips when he rolled onto his side, his shoulder lighting on fire from the pressure his weight placed on it. He gently rolled back again, flickering his eyes open to the bright room. Sharp pricks of pain stabbed at his eyes from the sudden brightness but after a moment, eased enough to be bearable. His dark, weary eyes scanned the room, eventually resting on the three figures slumped on the floor and at the table. A small smile graced his mouth at the sight.

Aramis' hat was across his eyes, but he could see his mouth hanging open slightly. Porthos' head was resting on his arms which were propped on the table, hiding his face from view. And Athos...d'Artagnan fought not to snicker at the sight of drool hanging out of his mentor's mouth and drying on his hand. He rolled his eyes, and pushed himself up a bit, stopping when he felt his side pull painfully. He tried to hide his whimper but wasn't successful before the others heard him. Three sets of familiar eyes darted to him, resting on his face. Aramis' face broke into a grin.

"Thank god. You're finally awake." d'Artagnan nodded and went to push himself up some more when two sets of hands grabbed his shoulders and gently pushed him back down. He opened his mouth to protest but was silenced by the triple glares leveled on him. He went down, but grumbled about over protective mother hens who didn't know when to stop. Aramis, who was closest to him, laughed.

"Aww, poor baby. You know you love us." The Spaniard teased. The Gascon just leveled a glare on the three snickering men.

"I hate you." He grumbled under his breath, but a the small smile gave away that he wasn't too upset. The Inseparables all pulled up chairs and settled around their young friend. A moment of silence allowed the four to look over everyone, the way they all did when they knew everything was gonna be okay. It was needed to reassure everyone that they survived again.

And it was. Everything was over, just the healing remained. Speaking of...

Athos' icy blue eyes scanned over d'Artagnan, anger refueling as his eyes catch the bruises that are spread around the young man's neck and the bandages wrapped around his shoulder and ribs. His brother was hurt, and all for what; a man and his greed? A man and his search for vengeance over things that if he'd been normal, wouldn't have been anything. Athos had seen evil in the world, his wife was proof of that, but this...This was almost worse. d'Artagnan had done absolutely nothing to the former Comte, except being an exceptional Musketeer, a good man and brother.

d'Artagnan saw the way Athos was looking at him and wanted to reassure the man that he was okay, that everything was right again, but didn't say anything. He just let him continue his quiet assessment of him. He knew that the anger he saw in the other man's eyes wasn't directed at him, or anyone in the vicinity, but at the man now in jail and a woman from the past. He should have figured that his best friend would see the parallels to the past, and only hoped that the others saw it too.

Aramis and Porthos exchanged a knowing look, before interrupting the silent observation going on in front of them.

"d'Artagnan...how're you feeling?" d'Artagnan dragged his eyes away from his friend, settling on the other two.

"Sore, a little tired, but I'm okay." He answered honestly. The trio exchanged a look of was probably shock before Aramis pressed the back of his hand to his forehead.

"How bad are you really feeling? I don't feel a fever, and I thought I'd taken care of all the wounds." d'Artagnan swatted his hand away with a glare.

"I was actually being honest. Fine, see if I do that again." Porthos snorted, but didn't say anything and raised his hands placatingly when Aramis' glare was leveled at him. Athos shook his head at the other two before turning his attention back to the young Gascon.

"Rochefort is scheduled to be executed today." Any and all interaction stopped with Athos' words. d'Artagnan face paled considerably and his hands started shaking. Aramis leaned forward and grasped his clammy hands with his own, gently rubbing them to help calm him.

"So...they found him guilty?" The question in their young friend's tone startled the others. They hadn't known that d'Artagnan had doubted his captor would get punishment for what he'd inflicted on him. Porthos' eyes narrowed and he internally wished that he could make Rocheforte suffer for what he'd put their young lad through.

"d'Artagnan, there was no way they couldn't find him guilty. All the evidence was there and the witnesses and the abuse you suffered. There was no way they couldn't find him guilty." Athos softly explained while Aramis was nodding in agreement. d'Artagnan's shoulders slumped in relief at the news. The trio shared a smile.

"The reason I brought this up was, would you want to go and see him be punished, get some closure?" d'Artagnan turned thoughtful. Did he want to go see Rochefort being hung? Did he want to face the man that has hurt him?

The trio could see the indecision on their young friend's face. And they understood why; would they want to see the person that had give them so much pain be punished or just put it behind them?

d'Artagnan turned his gaze to the others, looking to see what the others thought. Their expressions though, were full of complete support for whatever he chose, and in that moment he knew what he would do.

"Okay...I'll go." Athos nodded and inconspicuously glanced towards the others. The look they shared said it all. They'd be there for whatever came, their brother would never be alone.

xXx

That afternoon was slightly grim after the execution of Rochefort. d'Artagnan withdrew into himself, mind drawn to the past and what happened because of that man. The trio was worried about their younger brother, but stayed mostly silent, just making calm conversation about nothing. They knew he was just processing everything that had happened. So, they stayed by his side, bringing silent comfort through the haze of his mind.

And d'Artagnan was very grateful for that fact. They stayed just on the outskirts, waiting for him to come back without pushing for it. It was nice, after having been mostly alone except for his father most of his life. To have a family...It was the greatest feeling.

It was an hour after they returned to the garrison that d'Artagnan pulled back out of his head. He blinked and looked around the room. He was settled on his bed, and the trio was quietly talking at the table. He focused for a moment, and realized they were talking about him. He rolled his eyes before piping up, startling the three.

"You know I'm right here don't you? It's not nice to talk about people behind their back."

The trio jerked towards the young man who was stifling a laugh at them being startled which caused them to grin in return. It had been a while since they'd seen him that happy and it was nice.

"Really? I wasn't aware of that. I thought it was actually the polite thing to do." Porthos replied. Aramis snorted and Athos was just shaking his head. d'Artagnan opened his mouth to tell him off, but Aramis interrupted before it got out of hand.

"Feeling better?" d'Artagnan nodded.

"Much. If anything, I'm hungry. Anyway we could go eat?"

"Kid, you're always hungry. It's a wonder you don't grow, you're skin and bones." Porthos replied, an undertone of a laugh being heard. d'Artagnan stuck his tongue out in return, not caring how immature that made him. Aramis chuckled and stood.

"Well then, let's go feed the bottomless pit shall we? We wouldn't him to wither away." The Spaniard held a hand out to help the Gascon to his feet. d'Artagnan smiled gratefully and levered himself up. Aramis wrapped an arm around the younger man, gently leading him out the door. Porthos and Athos followed behind, lagging a bit so they could speak without being heard.

"You think 'e's okay?" Athos watched their two friends in front of them. Aramis saying something that made the Gascon laugh then raise a hand to cover his sore ribs. Athos smiled slightly and turned back to Porthos.

"Yes, I think he'll be okay." The Comte sped up to catch up to the others, sidling up next to d'Artagnan's other side, his arm gently brushing the younger man's. Porthos watched as d'Artagnan turned his head to say something to the older man before Aramis leaned across him to interject. He let himself smile broadly before catching up himself.

While the healing wasn't over, it was started and if there was one thing they knew...

They were Family, and they'd always be there for each other.


End file.
